Vices and Virtues
by ClaudeAgnes
Summary: Frollo/Esmeralda story from the Disney version. What if Esmeralda had agreed to be with Frollo to safe herself and her friends. Is Frollo going to finally have what he wants from her; can she ever be happy with him? Rated M for detailed descriptions of sexual (plus violent in some chapters) nature. Don't like, don't read.
1. Patience

_**Vices and Virtues**_

Patience:

The door was opened and she was forcefully pushed inside. A tall, grey- haired man with black clothes followed her in the room, making sure to lock the door behind. For a second he closed his eyes and sighed- then he turned to her.

"Esmeralda…" his lips transferred in a grin that made the girl shiver. The gypsy was now standing in the middle of a big room with walls covered in bookshelves; a desk on one side; a big bed on the other; and two windows that were letting inside the last orange- red rays of the day. He slightly advanced to her, which automatically made her take a couple of steps backwards. Her head was proudly lifted, and she was trying her best to look as fearless as she could before him. But the look on his face, the locked room with only the two of them inside... she standing in front of him only with the white, poorly covering her robe with which just a moment ago she would have been burned alive lessened even more her weak confidence.

"Frollo, don't…" she broke with unfortunate and weak voice.

The judge just advanced to her with lust in his eyes, which were wandering all over her dress suggesting and promising so much more underneath it. His head was just a few inches away from hers. He gazed into her big, green eyes, which were still bravely looking straight at him, but were starting to get wet.

"Don't what?" He smirked. Then without waiting for anything further he grabbed tightly her head with his hands and imprinted his burning lips onto hers.

The gypsy tried to yell out of pain and disgust, but that just opened her mouth enough for letting the minister's tongue inside of it. The act was getting more and more uncomfortable for Esmeralda with every second. Frollo's grip became tighter as his kiss was resembling ever more a wild animal tearing apart his prey. The girl became numb, feeling only the rapid heartbeat of the judge, his sporadic breaths and his yearning tongue desperately wanting to go farther and farther into her. Then he was finally ready to break the kiss as he slowly pulled out his tongue from her and lessened the hold of his hands. His lips were still pressed onto hers as he breathed out heavily several times and then lightly bit her down lip, sucking the left moist from it. After a few moments he pulled away from her, smirking satisfied with his success. He moved his hands from her head and directed them down her body. That seemed to snap the girl out of the indifferent, half- awakened stage she had sunk into. In an instant she gathered all the strength she was capable of and pushed as far as she could the judge from her. Frollo, surprised from the sudden change of the just a second ago obedient body, was thrown a few steps away from her. He actually had to make a great effort not to find himself on the floor and to remain on his feet.

"You disgust me!" she cried out with spite and spit on the floor between them. "I hate you, you hear me, you twisted, sick pervert!"

Frollo's eyes turned into a pure hatred that made Esmeralda wish she had been burned at the stake by that moment. He rushed towards the gypsy and grabbed her with one hand by the neck and started dragging her towards one of the windows. Her body, bend by the inhuman force that he was putting her through, stumbled through the many books left on the floor and eventually reached the window. He put most than half of her body outside of it, but she could still feel his firm grip around her neck.

"Look," he forced her head to go down and look below them. For a moment she thought that he would simply throw her out to fall and everything to be done with, so she closed her eyes.

"Look, I am telling you!" the minister yelled, shaking her head roughly.

Esmeralda opened her eyes and saw not so far from her a long line of gypsies and soldiers who were pushing them and hurried them to go faster.

"All that demons and sinful souls banished from Paris," the minister was now bend above her.

He was pressing her with his body to the stone edge of the window and whispering with rough voice in her ear: "But you know, a fire would have done far better work in extinguishing all these vermin from the face of the Earth," he sneered next to her.

Esmeralda was feeling a great pain from the position he was putting her into, but her mind was clear and she could hear every word of his. She thought that he talked all about that evil and sin, but the only thing that possessed these qualities wasn't there in the crowd of pushed and chased from their homes people, but just next to her. She despised Frollo with every action that he made upon her, with every word of his, with every part of his body that she felt pressed onto her own. She quivered and desperately tried to move around as much as she could, with hope to escape his grip. Unfortunately to her that only resulted in Frollo closing even more the distance between them and she felt with panic the pressed hardening member of the judge onto her struggling body. Her desperate weak resist and the rubbing of their bodies, the feeling of her- helpless beneath him, excited Frollo even further. His heartbeat increased, and his talk now was interrupted with heavy, deep breaths:

"Indeed, it would have been so much simpler to burn you all alive, but was it not exactly your sobs and tears that prevented that perish fate of all of you? You chose, didn't you," he smirked. "Today I pardoned your life before all Paris, I SAVED YOU; you little witch, and is that how you are giving me your gratitude? Your life was doomed, but you chose to give it to me instead to the hands of the eternal fires, is that not right?" He was shaking her and pressing her even harder to the stone, which made her eyes fill with tears of pain, but she was determined not to show her weakness. She was still trying to escape him, but her tries were getting more and more hopeless.

"And I was kind enough to set free not only you, but all those vermin that you call your friends, wasn't I," he continued. "Look, Esmeralda, look! They are let off to go on with their miserable lives thanks to you, but that could easily be change if you persist to disobey me. Do you understand, now," he tightened his hand around her neck expecting an answer. She didn't reply. "Answer me! Tell me how merciful I am; tell me how good I am, TELL IT!"

With great pain and resembling more like a sob than words, she replied: "Yes, you are." She saw him smirk next to her and felt his hand let go of the window frame.

"Very well, very well… The good deeds always need to be rewarded," he smirked and grabbed Esmeralda's robe and started lifting it up.

The thought of what was coming made him harden even more and he was sure now that the girl could feel it. Realizing what was happening the gypsy gathered all her left strengths and toughened the resist. She knew very well what she agreed to, but she still refused to give in to Frollo, and more importantly she was terrified by that thought. His hand had removed most of the cloth and was eagerly going all over her legs and inner thighs. He had lost all of his self control and was blissfully drowning into all the pleasures that every new push of her was giving him. The resisting and tightening legs made it even more stimulating to him. He felt the ache between his own legs and desperately desired to release it at once. His hand moved to his own cloths intending to uncover his male organ, but then he realized that the frantic movements of the girl had led them to very unsteady and dangerous position. They were both half out from the window, and her constant shifting was helping with making the situation even more risky and seriously threatening them to fall out. His one hand was still holding firmly her neck, but when he had directed the other away from the hold of the window frame, he had lost the control over the situation. Esmeralda was madly moving in every direction, her eyes were closed, and she was trying her best not to think of what Frollo was doing with her.

"Stupid girl!" the judge yelled, and as he got off her he found his balance and pulled Esmeralda and himself away from the window. He was still holding her for the neck when he barked into her year: "You wish to get us killed, but I shall not follow you so easy to hell, little which!" He pushed her with disgust and she collapsed on the floor. It had been a long day for her and her strengths were quickly leaving her. She remained on the floor, not changing her position, staring down and horrified by what more she would suffer that night. The judge gazed upon her, reassuring his dominance and calming a little bit. He sighed and looked automatically to the window. The last lights of the day had been long gone, leaving the shades of dark grey all over the city, but it wasn't completely dark yet. Frollo turned again to the frozen on the floor girl.

"Get on the bed," he said with silent, but harsh and cold voice. Esmeralda's heart, which had just regulated its beating, increased rapidly and shivers ran all over her. She didn't move.

"Believe me, my dear, it will be less painful for you if you do exactly what are you told. Now don't make me repeat myself," the threatening and yet incredibly calm voice with which he had said these words made her stand and seat on the edge of the bed. Her face was still bent down and her heart was more frightened than ever before. She desperately wanted to escape him, to disobey every word of his, or at least to have enough strength to do him harm, but her conscious was all crying out not to. The inner pain, the debate whether to let to be raped, or to fight for her dignity and eventually to be killed along with her people, gave incredible pain to her. She felt as if she could barely breathe anymore. She snapped out of her dilemma just in time to see the judge who was standing right next to her and was reaching to her hair. He smirked as his fingers went through her dark locks and as he grabbed them firmly he pulled her hair back and closed his face to hers.

"You will look right at me; I want to see your face during every moment of it, do you understand me?" He pushed her back, forcing her to lay on the bed, and as he roll over her he made another deep and rough kiss. Her eyes filled up with tears, and she automatically closed them. He pulled her chin and as he was still very close to her he repeated: "I asked do you understand me?"

Her eyes opened and she looked at him with all the hatred that she could express: "Yes, I understand you," she said very quietly, but succeeded to sound less helpless than before.

"Good," he smirked, lifting himself off her and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Now, move yourself so you can lay more properly on the bed."

Silently she obeyed and after some moments, her head was on the pillows and Frollo was now near her legs. He patiently observed her and after she stopped moving he slid his hand over her leg. She shivered, which made him even more ecstatic. His hand continued going upwards, uncovering more and more of her legs. The judge thirstily moved again over her, as his hands lifted her entire skirt. She felt his member arousing between her bare thighs and she could not help, but to shrug and to raise her hands ready to push him off her. Frollo pressed on her harder, catching and pinning both of her hands above her. He breathed heavily into her ear:

"Don't move." For a moment he stared at her eyes, filled with disgust and fear, then his hands left hers and started to go down to her neck. He made another kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and slowly started to pull down the cloth from her breasts. Frollo interrupted the kiss and his face started to move down her neck. His hands uncovered one of her breasts as he stared at it with enlarged eyes and then he eagerly started to kiss and trace his tongue all over it. He roughly pulled off the remained piece of the robe and with heavy breaths and groans he was going all over her breasts. The ache between his legs increased and removing one of his hands from her nipple he slid it between their bodies and reached to his pants. Esmeralda cried silently and started to shrug violently, but this time he had caught her well and she couldn't do much. He just continued to pant as he felt her naked aggressive body beneath his own. He had finally reached the down part of his body and he pulled the yearning organ from his clothes. His breathes deepened and his heartbeat increased as his hand reached now between her legs. He looked at Esmeralda, whose eyes were now fixed on the ceiling and a tear was slipping along her cheek. He smirked and pushed one of her legs aside, feeling her with his bony fingers. She felt the cold metal from his rings onto her inner thighs and shivered. Frollo's head arouse from her bosom and he sneered with impatience:

"Look at me!" Without waiting any further, Esmeralda felt his body pressing even harder into her and panic ran all over her when she knew what will follow just in a moment. Frollo groaned and grabbed her even thither, as losing all other senses she left her numb body into his wishes.

A loud knock from the outside of the door snapped both the judge and the gypsy, making Frollo slightly jump off her.

"WHAT," he barked in anger, when realizing what had just happened.

"Minister Frollo…" an indecisive voice from a soldier outside the door was heard, as the man made an unsuccessful attempt to enter through the locked door.

"Do not lose my time with babbling, you idiot," the judge said now lifted above Esmeralda, holding firmly her hands. The girl remained frozen, but her eyes gave expression of life.

"It is concerning the vagabonds- the prisoners, sir. You have to take care of some documents, before they have been banished from the city."

"Idiot, you dare bother me in my privacy for some paper declarations! Can't you manage it on your own," he snarled, still not moving.

"No, sir, I mean… there is something else," the soldier sounded confused and indecisive.

"Speak up, then!"

"Well, you also have to arrange the move of the captain- I meant the traitor… the ex- captain, sir."

Esmeralda's heart got excited by only hearing of her beloved one and she trembled lively. This did not go unnoticed by the trapped her under his body judge, who turned his full with vice eyes towards her. His cold look made her sudden hope vanquish and she again felt the weight of despair.

"Very well then," Frollo started with low and authoritative voice, still looking straight at the gypsy's green eyes, "wait for me downstairs, I shall join you in a moment, and then I can take care of these… matters of concern, understood?"

"Yes, sir"

The judge heard the leaving away steps of the soldier, when he was with still fixed eyes on the girl. A mix of different emotions were all blurring his vision- at this moment he despised, loved, hated, desired and yearned the gypsy; he was jealous, excited, angry, unsecured and aroused. His face took the expression of all these, and with uptight grin he clutched Esmeralda's body with incredible force and without speaking pressed it as hard as he could to the bed. Doing so, he succeeded to part himself from her, and stepping on the floor he turned to the door, with his back on her. The pushed, bruised and almost entirely naked girl remained on the bed without moving, barely showing signs of life. Her eyes were full with tears, but she dared not to do anything further. The judge, still faced the door, breathed heavily, forcing himself to calm down and to retain some control over his body. After some moments, he started to fix his clothes, and as he put them in order he made a few more steps towards the door. He stopped and Esmeralda's breath stilled with fear that he might change his mind. He closed his eyes- his expression seemed as if he is debating over some painful dilemma. In a moment he sighed, hissing out in a just loud enough voice so that the girl could hear him:

"Patience," which word seemed to comfort him. Then he opened the door and left, leaving the gypsy frightened, hurt and naked behind him.


	2. Shame

For the story to run smoother, this chapter has a lot of explanations, but eventually gets to the main idea. I have planned a few more chapters ahead, and as soon as I can, I would write them. Enjoy!

_**Vices and Virtues**_

Shame:

After the judge left, Esmeralda remained still on the bed. She intensely listened the sound of his steps, which were becoming more and more distant until they disappeared. She did not move. She was too scared that in a moment he would be back and so she did not allow herself any hope. Minutes past, and death silence reverberated in the gypsy's ears ever since Frollo had left. She was sunken in her thoughts, busy to process all that had happened that day.

Esmeralda had drifted her attention to the previous night when the Court of the Miracles was found by the judge, and everyone there was thrown in prison. She remembered the dark, stone dungeon and the merciless soldiers, who had pushed her in one of the cells. She recalled the face of the minister, who had attended all this- his mocking smiles, his cold, lost in some kind of self pleasure voice, his freezing hands, which had touched her whenever he was given the opportunity. She remembered the sobs of all those frightened women and children, and the anger of the helpless men, who had been stuffed in the cages around her. The entire dungeon had been full with her friends, coming more and more, as she and all others barely had had the space for breathing. The soldiers had constantly been pushing as much gypsies as they could. The entire night Esmeralda had spent crying and blaming herself for what had happened. She still did. She recalled the tender soothing and hugs of her friend, Clopin, who had been put in the same cage as her. The entire night he had been trying to reassure her that it would have happened eventually, and at least it was comforting that they had each other at these dreadful times. No matter of his kind words, she had known that only worse would follow, and in that moment all that she could think of was what would happen to her friends, to Clopin, to Quasimodo, to Phoebus… A dark weight filled her chest when she remembered Phoebus. She hadn't seen him since they were caught. In the dungeon sometimes she had succeeded to recognize his voice among the yells and cries of all others, but she had never had the chance to see him. He was put in a distant cage from hers, and among all those poor prisoners and their sobs, she could not even speak to him. She thought she had heard his tender voice saying that he loves her, but everything had been blurry, all their words were lost among the crowd of cries and the abusive words of the soldiers.

The morning seemed to have come very quickly, but it had also seemed she had been carrying those feelings of despair and anguish for ages. The light of the guard, who had come to take her, had blinded her eyes and she had closed them in pain. She had not wanted to open them, but when she finally had done so, she had been dragged to the Place de Grève, where half of Paris had been gathered to watch her execution. Her gypsy dress and jewelries had been gone, and she had been standing with a white prisoner's robe in front of the crowd. She remembered seeing other cages full with gypsies, which Frollo had ordered to take from the dungeon as well in order to watch Esmeralda's death. She had thought that she saw the blonde hair of her beloved one, but everything was moving too fast. Beneath her legs there had been a pile of sticks and her hands had been tight. She remembered noticing the crowd to rebel, as if they had been opposed to witness her death, but the guards had had everything under control. Then she had seen again the face of the person guilty for all these. Frollo had been standing right in front of her, holding a fired torch next to her face, ready to put it down and burn her alive. The thought of the fire eating her flesh, the upcoming pain and torture had made her even more scared to the death. She had not been ready to die and leave her friends in the hands of all those misfortunes that she had brought, she had not been ready to leave the hope of seeing Phoebus for at least one more time. She had snapped out of her panic, when Frollo had given her the choice between him and death. She had known very well what that choice meant, and she had not wanted it to make it, but by choosing the judge, she had thought that she would have more time for escaping.

Her heartbeat increased and she felt incredible pain in her throat when she recalled the moment she had said "yes" to Frollo. She had been too upset and exhausted- she remembered when she had burst into tears and begged the judge to free the prisoners. She could not believe that she had promised to do everything in exchange of making up for the fate that she had brought to her people. Esmeralda remembered the cold indifference of Frollo's voice, when he had said that he would release them, but not without consequences. His eyes had been giving out some kind of impatience, but he had managed to control well his emotions. Esmeralda had sobbed and asked for the fate of her beloved one, which had made the judge to lose himself in rage, and roughly to push her inside his carriage. He had grabbed her by the hair and barked into her ear that her Phoebus would be just fine, unless she had dared spoke for him again before Frollo. She had needed to be satisfied by that reply, because she had been too scared to speak up again. She remembered being dragged out of the carriage, and after the judge had given some orders to the soldiers and had send them away, he personally had grabbed her and had took her to his chamber.

Esmeralda suddenly snapped out of her thoughts. All that had happened in the room had overcome her and had pulled her out of her frozen-on-the bed state. She looked around- it was already dark, it had been past more than half an hour since Frollo had left. She was freezing from cold, so she automatically put her hands around her in order to feel warmer. Another painful shock ran over her when she felt her naked body. Flashes of the minister's lustful eyes, his cold hands which were stripping off her clothes and his yearning tongue past before the gypsy's eyes. She could not bear the thought of what she had let him do to her, or the frightful image of what would have followed if the guard had not interrupt the minister's actions. She burst into tears and started crying out loudly. All that had happened during the day, all those tears that she had forbidden herself to spill in front of her torturer were finally spilling out of her. She frantically started to pull the old robe that Frollo had gathered only around her waist. Shame ran all over her when she covered her bare breasts and legs. She was now sitting on the bed, when another horrible thought passed through her mind and increased her crying. What if the judge had finished what he had intended to do to her? She would have become a whore, a whore raped by that hypocritical man.

Esmeralda hysterically jumped out of the bed, getting as far from it as she could. It was completely dark in the room. Still crying, she succeeded to find her way to the door, but when she tried to open it she found out it was lock. Another burst of sobs followed as she collapsed down near the locked exit. She had not even realized when he had locked the door. She remained on the floor for a few moments, in which the silence was interrupted by her dying out cries. She listened into the quit space for a second, than with determination she stand and ran to one of the windows. Outside was dark as well, but occasionally it was seen in the distance some lights from candles or torches. She looked down, it was too high for her to jump and survive from it. That thought stuck in her mind for a second- what if she just jump and escape the tortures of this life. She took a deep breath and after a moment she sighed in despair. No matter of how bad things were she was not suicidal, she still kept hope that things will get better, that the darkness will disappear into the light... into the sun. That instantly reminded her of Phoebus, her chest again filled up with painful weight. She desired more than everything to know what had happened to him, and if she would ever see him again. The agonizing pain of the idea that her lover was left into a promise that was even never spoken out loudly by a hypocritical man was too much to bear and she collapsed on the floor for a second time. She remained there, with bent down head, sobbing. Then she looked towards the window above her seeing the dark sky filled with white stars and slowly, still crying, her body, full with exhaustion, relaxed and she fell into a deep sleep.

It was around midnight when Frollo finally reached his house. It has been a long day for him, and surely it was a long night. Since the moment he had left his chambers he had not stop to think about the gypsy he had left behind. He was certainly from those men that did their job right and cared about it, but tonight was supposed not to be occupied with work. He had hoped that he would not lose his night in arranging transportation and writing rapports and documents, but that was all he had done until now. Now he was finally home and he would have the chance to finish what had kept his attention constantly drifting from the judicial matters.

He entered the dark, silent and what it seemed like empty house. He lighted a candle and rushed through the stairs, getting on the second floor where his bedroom was. He stopped in front of the door and took some deep breaths. He realized that his legs were trembling out of the impatience of the delight that would be in the next room. He tried his best to control his emotions and as he took the key from one of his pockets he unlocked the door. The silence was broken by the noise of the opened door, but everything inside seemed stilled. He entered into his chambers and the candle that he was holding lighted up the motionless room. The glow started playing with the shadows around. He looked around for a second and as he recalled his last moments into the room he automatically directed his view towards the bed. It was empty. He advanced with few steps towards it, now researching the entire chamber. After some moments, the fire from the candle fell onto Esmeralda's sleeping body near the window. With surprise and some curiosity Frollo advanced towards her. Her white robe was the first clearly distinguished thing, but as the light ran all over her, the judge stared at her raven hair, which was blazing from the moon and the candle's light into different glowing colors. His eyes nervously started to move over her, observing her dark skin, her delicious shapes, and her peaceful face. Her beauty was even more stunning when watching her while she was still.

Frollo was standing there, not moving, as he would destroy the pleasurable view with a single move. He could hear his own breaths and heartbeats. He remembered when hours earlier this supernatural creature was into his hands, he could smell her, feel her, and have her under his control. But even then she was not as beautiful as she was now when sleeping. He started drifting his mind into dreams of the previous memories between them and present imaginations. He was almost sensing her tender body near his. He imagined her helpless, obedient and ready to give herself fully to him. He was holding her into his hands, when she had put her warm lips onto his and had kissed him passionately. Her light hands had stripped the clothes from his body, and he had pressed her to the very wall that she was now sleeping at. He dreamed how she had surrounded her legs around his and how they both were groaning out of the delight that their bodies were giving them.

The judge snapped out of his imaginations as he felt the throbbing bulge in his pants . He automatically closed his eyes and tried to suppress his emotions. He was still standing in the dark room with candle in one of his hands which spilled its lights over the sleeping gypsy on the floor. The only thing that was moving was the candle-fire shadows on the walls. Frollo moved towards her, desperately wanting to retain some control over the situation. He bent down towards her, and as he was almost kneeling in front of her, he whispered with cold voice:

"Esmeralda," she did not respond. He gazed at her face, which was looking even more beautiful when looked closer than at a distance. He slid his fingers over her cheek and then through her hair. She still did not move- she seemed deeply asleep. The judge's mind started drifting again into dreams, but he roughly shook off these thoughts from his thinking: "It is not the time," he silently scolded himself.

"_Enough with those thoughts_," he thought. "_Now she is mine, under my control and I can have whatever I like from her_." That made him grin and he repeated louder, as he shook her:

"Esmeralda," but she still did not reply. His patience was running out, but he took another deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He stared at her, his eyes constantly moving at different parts of her body. After another minute in silence, he placed the candle down on the floor, and bent over the gypsy. His hands slid behind her back and knees, and he carefully, not to awake her, lifted her up. The judge had been intending to get her out of her sleep and finish all that he had fantasized to do with her, but now it seemed he had changed his mind. He surely did not want her to awake when he was being kind to her- that he considered equal of showing weakness which he already felt that he had done. He felt her tender structure and the rhythmic breaths. He carried her to the bed, not leaving his eyes from her, and placed her to lay on it. He covered her with a blanket while still not moving his eyes from her peaceful face. He stood up at her bedside for a moment and then he seemed to put great efforts in forcing himself to interrupt his stare. He suddenly moved away from the bed, took the candle from the floor and left the room without looking back again.

Frollo exited his chambers and locked the door behind. He found himself in the hallway as he stopped for a moment and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. It was difficult to do so since images and thoughts of the girl he had just put to sleep in his bed were wildly spinning in his head. He moved along the hallway with frustration as he opened one door and found himself in what was the guest room. It looked like his chamber, but smaller and with significant poorer amount of books and documents lying around. The candle that he was holding was almost gone so he hurried to put off his hat and gown and to get in the bed in the room. He blew out the fire from the candle and lied back on the bed facing the ceiling.

He finally could take a rest from the long day, but no matter of how tired he was his thoughts kept him awake. He was going over and over again the moments he had with Esmeralda that day. Although they made him full with content that the gypsy was his at last, he felt dissatisfied for he could not finish what he had started with her. His yearning body, no matter how tired it was, wanted her and he wanted her now. He closed his eyes in frustration. He knew very well how stupid his impatience was- he would have her for as long as he pleased, and depriving her from sleep now would not do any good. In fact he considered himself even lucky in one matter- the judge, knowing how stubborn Esmeralda was, anticipated her to refuse all basic needs, denying anything that he would offer her.

_"Sleep was a good sign, it was a sign of trust"_, he thought. Then his mind went again on the images of the unconscious gypsy. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, and so obedient. He remembered with pleasure when he lifted her and felt her feminine forms into his arms. His mind drifted to fantasized images: He was putting her into the bed, but when he started to move his arms away she whimpered in protest. Still with closed eyes she surrounded her gentle arms around him and begged him to stay. Frollo imagined her staring right at him and then lightly pulling him to lay over her, opening her legs and closing him with them. Frollo trembled as he felt himself arousing under the covers.

_"Please, hold me," _an imagined voice whispered into his ear_. _His vision of Esmeralda was pulling him closer to her and had started softly to kiss his face and neck, removing his cloths with her hands. The judge sinking into the dream grabbed the naked shoulders of the gypsy and kissed her thirstily. She did not resist him as earlier, in his mind she desired him as much as he did. Esmeralda tangled her tongue with his, passionately surrendering into his wishes. The judge groaned as he almost felt her, moving inside his mouth. His hands started pulling her robe, revealing more and more flesh. He looked down to her bare legs, and as he traced them with his fingers he removed the prison gown from her thighs. His hands were going all over the soft skin on her waste and stomach. An ecstatic pain ran through Frollo's body, as he let his thoughts wander into the blissful images. Esmeralda undressed the remained robe, leaving her naked body entirely into the minister's hands. He touched with his hand one of her breasts, lightly feeling it. He looked at her- she was groaning in delight, as she reached to the other hand of the judge, placing it on her other breast. He rubbed them both as he climbed himself to her face, giving her another passionate kiss and tracing his moist lips on her chin and neck. She panted in delight, and so did Frollo in the dark, motionless room. His head was feeling as if it would explode, his whole body was burning and he felt again the pleasurable pain between his legs. Esmeralda helped him remove his gown, leaving him only with his pants. She traced her hands on the pale shoulders and chest of the judge, eagerly feeling every part of him with her dark, soft skin. In the lonely bed, the minister's own hands were now slid beneath the covers and were timidly imitating every imagined move of the gypsy. Her hands got together at his stomach and as she spread her fingers she started slowly to move them down to his pants. They were looking intensely, gasping for breath, as her hands stopped on the down part of his stomach, starting soft, teasing circles around.

The judge breathed heavily, finding his hands on the place of the imagined ones. He was fully erect, and his body was begging him to continue and to release the tension. He was drowning in the pleasurable fantasy, but he alarmed himself, realizing what he was doing. He was proud of his abstinence, and even though he had before had vague fantasies like this one it had been very long since he had been tempted to commit fully the sin. He breathed in frustration. He knew that now as he had made Esmeralda stay with him he had practically agreed to the path of iniquity and sin, but this had gone too far. His hands were still not moving from his stomach, and the covers were lifted from his arousal. In the dark, where no human could see him, where he alone was witness to his crimes would his dignity allow him this yearned moment of pleasure. He pressed his head down to the pillow, and as he bit his lip until it bled, he whispered:

"Don't spill your seed, don't…commit a sin against God…," but his hands slid a little bit farther. His scolding words quickly faded into his ears, replaced by the gentle, inviting and soft voice of the gypsy:

"_Please, don't stop. I am all yours, possess me_." He again sank into the image of her naked body beneath him, as his hands resumed the fantasized movements of the gypsy. Her fingers softly slid into his pants, exploring the inside. Then her entire hand followed them, and the judge gave a moan of pleasure, as his bony fingers touched his manhood. His lungs filled with air, and he breathed heavily into the lonely room. Then Esmeralda pulled her hand from there, and with tender touches she pushed down the pants of the judge, revealing his aroused organ. Another wave of ecstasy ran through the body of the judge, as he imagined her opening her legs for him, waiting for his conquest over her. He started again to slide his hand toward his member, envisioning slowly going towards the gypsy's genital. He pictured her moaning in delight, as his hand grabbed firmly his manhood. He pressed himself deeper into her, as he himself groaned out of pleasure, breaking the silence in the dark chamber. His legs trembled out of ecstasy as he started rhythmically moving inside of his fantasy. They were both gasping desperately needing air, but they were greedier for the joy that their tangled bodies were giving them. He was drowning in pleasure, wanting more and more of it. He closed his eyes, sinking more into the dream.

Esmeralda's body was convulsively squirming in blissful delight, obediently following the judge's moves. He interrupted the rhythm of his motions, passionately tracing his tongue on her breasts and neck. Her dark nipples hardened, as he rubbed his face in them. She took his head, which was covered with sweat, with her hands, pressing it harder to her soft skin and moaning blissfully. Her legs tightened around him as she pushed his body aside, shifting herself on top of him. She removed her dark hair, revealing her beautiful face, as she took his hands and rose in sitting position. He was laying on his back completely obedient to her wishes. She carried his hands around her body, placing them on her breasts. Then she resumed the rhythmic movements, giving him unutterable bliss.

He could almost see her in the empty darkness- she was there, completely naked above him, dancing and moving her delightful forms only for his contentment. His moans increased as he started to please himself faster and harder. In his mind she was yelling out of the satisfaction that he was giving her. His pelvis lifted, pressing deeper into her and he barely could resist himself not moaning louder. He closed his eyes, pushing his head harder on the pillow and stretching it backwards. He licked his lips as he thirsted himself harder and longer into her. He tasted the blood on his mouth, caused by the moment ago bites of abstinence. The groans of pleasure were requiring more and more effort in deafening them. His heart beat was running wild; he could feel his entire body covered with sweat as he yearned more and more for the painful bliss. Then with another deep thirst into the imagined gypsy, he reached his peak of pleasure and felt a warm, sticky liquid to spread on his hand.

Frollo's lungs were rapidly inhaling and exiling air as his body found itself in complete rest. His hand was still on his genitals as he remained in this position for a few moments, becoming fully aware of all the delight he had just experienced. Suddenly he felt the thick liquid that had spurted around his hand and covers. Abruptly he extracted his hand from there, wiping it on the covers aside, and rigidly pulled his pants, covering the parts which just a moment ago were giving him unutterable pleasure. He felt shame and disgust from what he had just done. He turned in the bed, facing the door. The image of the gypsy was no longer present and as he closed his eyes he could only see his desecrated, sinful actions. He felt a huge weight settle into his chest, knowing how wrong was everything he had just done. He knew that he would burn in hell for his actions. And yet his long gathered tension was finally released and he was no longer tortured with images of her. But the satisfaction he felt was dirty, sinful and full of impurity.

"Beata Maria, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell…"he whispered into the darkness and stopped. He couldn't finish his prayer; he couldn't fully repent, as the satisfaction of the sin was greater, he couldn't promise not to do it again, as he intended even greater sins in future. He closed his eyes and slept in shame.


	3. Vanity

_**Vices and Virtues**_

Vanity:

Frollo woke up early as usual. It took him a few seconds to recollect the previous day. He got up from the bed and rigidly dressed up. He paused and stared through the window- it was a cold, grey morning,in which the sun was nowhere to be seen. The city seemed to be still asleep and the judge involuntary wondered if Esmeralda had already awoken or not. Suddenly he realized that his lip was hurting as he automatically put his hand on it. Remembering how he bit it yesterday he went to look himself in the mirror. The blood had coagulated and he had a small wound on his down lip. He stared at his reflection for a moment, as his fingers were going around the wound, then he sighed heavily bending his head down. He turned, barely looking towards the bed with his head still facing the floor. He put a great effort in forcing himself to push away the memories of what he had done yesterday or to think at all about his private parts. After a few seconds he headed towards the door, taking his hat in one hand and as he made an effort to regain his usual authoritative expression he left the chamber.

Esmeralda was in half sleep half awaken state as she heard loud noises resembling knocking. Still not fully conscious she turned on the other side, covering her head with the covers. She was just drifting again into sleep, ignoring the knocking, as a sudden shiver went through her entire body roughly snapping her out of the peaceful state. She remained still covered as she slowly opened her eyes; her head was hurting from the impulsive flow of information. She looked around recollecting the previous day, and as she remembered that she had fallen asleep out of exhaustion on the floor she shuddered and rapidly sat on the bed. She rigidly looked around, calming herself as she found out that she was at least alone in it. She wondered who had put her there, persistently refusing to accept the only possible answer. She bitterly regretted that she had let herself fall asleep, becoming unconscious in the hands of the judge. Her heart tightened at the question what he could have possibly done to her in such a stage. Esmeralda was pulled away from her thoughts as she paid attention to the knocking on the door. Her mind immediately referred to Frollo, but then why would he knock? She trembled as she heard the unlocking of the door and its opening.

A short, chubby woman in her fifties entered the room. She was dressed in a brown modest dress and she was having an apron, suggesting her status as a servant in the house. Her head was bent respectfully down, but she had something rude in her manners and speech.

"I am very sorry to disturb you," she said with uptight, but polite voice as she entered the room, "but the minister gave me the key to the room and ordered to get you, even if that means to enter without your permission."

"To get me?" Esmeralda murmured, as she was still sitting in the bed.

"Yes, miss, he demanded your presence for breakfast," the woman said advancing more to the gypsy and nervously waiting for her to follow her.

The mentioning of food quickly reminded Esmeralda that she was in fact starving. She hasn't eaten properly for days, but just now she became aware of her hunger. However, there were a lot of other things that came up in her mind and bothered her as well.

"Did…" she started timidly, trying to choose her words properly so the woman would not draw any false conclusions "…did he spend the entire night outside?" She didn't want to call Frollo by any name, but she did not want to give him any honorable titles as minister or judge either. All that she knew for the last night was that her sleep was deep and anything could have happened while she was unconscious. The most horrible thought that haunted her was that if she had slept in his bed where could have he spent the night.

"Who? The minister," the servant asked confused. "I am afraid that it is not in my knowledge. But please, miss, do not put me in any trouble and just follow me to him."

"What is the time," the gypsy asked, desperately trying to regain at least some information.

"It is half past seven, and the judge has already waited for quite some time. He usually leaves the house far earlier than this. I strongly advise you to hurry up," the servant replied rigidly.

The woman was polite towards the gypsy, but in her voice and the way she had pronounced her words Esmeralda felt that the servant did not trust her. She mechanically stood up as her bare feet touched the freezing floor. Staying there only in her prison robe she felt again cold and automatically surrounded herself with her hands. An involuntary notion passed in her mind as she thought how much this room reminded her of the dungeons. The waiting woman looked at her with a mixture of pity and suspicion, then she resumed her expression of indifferent politeness.

"Pleas follow me," the servant said as she turned and walked out of the chamber. Esmeralda silently followed her. In her head thousands of questions and disturbing thoughts were taking place, and she desperately wanted to know their answers, but the woman that had come to take her did not seem to bother to talk more than the necessary with the gypsy. The servant led her through the hallway and down the stairs. Everything seemed somewhat dark and cold. Esmeralda had not got the chance to look the interior of the house as she had been practically abruptly dragged through it yesterday. The house was not very large, but it was certainly one of the rich ones around. Upstairs seemed to have not more than three rooms, and apparently downstairs was the kitchen, the living room and some other doors that the gypsy couldn't guess what is behind them. The servant led her in another hallway, and then she opened one door, letting her to pass first. Esmeralda hesitated for a little, then with the impatient push by the accompanying her woman, she entered in a relatively big room in the center of which there was a rectangular table covered with red cloth. Frollo was sitting in the one end of the table as he fixed his probing look towards the opened door. As he saw the indecisive steps of Esmeralda to come in something inside him trembled and he felt overwhelmed with mixture of excitement, shame and passion. He stared at her authoritatively, shifting his eyes to her whole body, then he turned to the just came in servant, who was standing a few steps behind the gypsy and obediently pointing her head down.

"Start bringing up the food," the judge said with low voice to the older woman.

"Yes, sir," she respectfully bent and left the room.

Esmeralda remained standing where she was, intensely looking at Frollo. Her head was arrogantly lifted, but she was feeling as she had been put on a trial, where her unfortunate fate had been already decided. The atmosphere of the room was dark as most of the windows were covered with black curtains. Shivers of cold, disgust and fear were running over the entire skin of the girl. A shadow was covering most of the minister, emphasizing more on his grey hair and his authoritative look. His eyes went one more time all over her and then his calm, cold and harsh voice broke through the stillness of the room:

"Sit," he commanded as he had fixed his look directly towards her eyes. Esmeralda was not feeling tired as yesterday and she was determined this time to put more effort in defying his wishes, but she saw no point in standing up before him so she wordlessly did what she was told. She sat on the opposite end of the table which made Frollo smirk, pleased that his orders were followed. Another moment of silence followed. They were both looking straight at each other, imperturbably and daring.

"I am glad to see that you look more rested than yesterday," the judge drawled with mocking voice, breaking again the stillness.

"And I am glad to see you are not," the girl replied back with revulsion. The judge truly looked exhausted and the dark circles under his eyes were suggesting that he had had uneasy night. His lips transferred into a grim and he said with cold voice:

"I can see that with your rest your arrogance has returned as well." Esmeralda looked him with despise without saying a word. He gazed upon her for a moment, and then he continued: "However, sometimes it is far more at my pleasing to hold your tongue and show some respect."

"How can I ever respect you," she snapped vigorously. He smirked and said mockingly:

"Believe me you will."

"I'll be damn if I ever…"

"You already are," the judge interrupted her sharply. Another silence followed. He broke it again: "It is in your best interest to do exactly what I say or should I remind you what will follow if you continue to act like this?"

"What will!" she impertinently said. "All people that I have ever known are cast away from the city, you have me even worse than a prisoner and who knows what you have done with Phoebus…"

"Don't you dare speak of him before me," the judge yelled, loosing entirely his temper. "Control yourself at once."

"Or what! What other misfortune can you lay upon me? You have already taken my friends, my dignity, my LOVE! What else," she was now yelling too as her voice was full with anger, hate and sobs.

Frollo's eyes were firing fury and rage, as his face twisted into terrible grimace. He was ready to jump at her and smack her as the door opened and two servants with trays entered the room. The judge involuntary startled at the entrance, and then he looked at the newcomers with impatience. The gypsy automatically turned her eyes towards them as well.

They were two women, as one of them was the one that had brought Esmeralda there. The other was not much older than the gypsy herself, with blond hair in a bun. Her face was not clearly seen as the heads of both servants were respectfully bent down. They silently put the trays on the table, and started taking off the things that were on them. The younger woman started serving the minister, as the older one headed to Esmeralda. She put in front of her silver cutlery and tumbler, and then she placed near her a bow full with different fruits that the gypsy had scarcely seen before. She put a big plate before her, which had eggs, sausages, bacon and french toasts in it. The smell of it had reminded Esmeralda how hungry she is, and made her stomach double in pain. The servant placed another smaller plate with fresh croissants, other with butter and a jug with water, as she had first sipped part of it in the tumbler. She put a white, cloth napkin near the biggest plate, and her eyes for a second separated from the food and looked contemptibly towards Esmeralda. Then after taking the tray she had respectfully drawn away from the table and stopped near the door.

The younger woman was still serving the judge, as the gypsy had been tracing with her eyes the movements of the older woman and then the gypsy had automatically fixed them to the other servant. She was approximately Esmeralda's height, a little slimmer than the gypsy, and her head was constantly facing the floor. Her dress was as well modest as the other's woman, but it was different model and color. It was blue- green and it was with long sleeves that were often going through the table. She as well had an apron like the other servant. Her movements were graceful, yet somewhat slow and uncertain. Frollo's eyes were impatiently fixed at the gypsy the whole time, but he seemed he had succeeded in regaining control over himself. The girl had finally finished serving and as she took the second tray she joined the other servant to the door.

"You may take your leave now," the judge said with his usual low and authoritative voice. The women had dutifully bowed and did as told. The minister turned again his infuriated look towards the gypsy. "To reply your questions," he started coldly, but with controlled temper, "I shall remind you that just yesterday you were to be burned for your crimes. Your "friends," as you called them, would very likely have had similar fate to this- either killed or imprisoned for life. With regret, I shall say that the banishing from the city would not have the permanent effect that I wish for these vermin, but still I believe that it is a middle ground that we can both live with," he grinned.

Esmeralda was intensely staring at him as he continued: "As much as I recall you promised me obedience in exchange of your and their life, did you not? I believe I have been more than tolerant and patient with your childish behavior, and have not deprived you from any need. I have given you a comfortable bed, in which to sleep," after these words the gypsy snorted in disagreement, "and now I am giving you a better food than you have ever eaten," the judge continued ignoring her action, but raising a little bit his voice. "And you will see that my kindness will continue as long as you obey me," he paused for a moment and then continued with a bare note of irritation in his voice: "As far as it is concerning the ex- captain, or as you called him," here the minister made another pause, and then his lips curled in expression of mocking disgust as he he said, ""_your love_," I shall assure you that he is more than fine in the city that I have put him in. He took with great zest the given him second chance, thanks to you, to be just reduced in rank and to serve as a common soldier in the army of Rheims. With that, I expect I have told you more than the necessary that you desire to know about him and you would in future follow better my orders as I am commanding you never to mention him again to me. Are we clear?"

Esmeralda's eyes were still fixed towards Frollo, but now they were full with tears. A large one dropped and slid along her cheek.

"If you have driven away anything that I care about," she started with unfortunate voice, "tell me any reason why should I stay with you."

The minister smirked:

"Because, my dear, you already know from experience that I shall find you, and during my search for you I shall kill everyone that you have ever known and God is my witness every gypsy that I shall see in my way. And then you will again chose between the grave and my bed," he sneered. Another tear rolled over Esmeralda's cheek.

"I want my clothes," she suddenly snapped. That made Frollo automatically to shift his look from her eyes to her body. He leered in pleasure:

"And why would you want that?"

"I am cold and if you are suggesting that I am not a prisoner then I hope I can at least receive my previous clothes."

His expression resumed his earlier seriousness and he looked her again in her eyes.

"I am afraid I cannot give you that, as the clothes of the convicted to death are thrown away or given to whoever takes them. And moreover you have not done anything to deserve more than I have already given you. I feel too generous in that matter."

"Arrogant hypocrite," she murmured.

"Excuse me?" the minister asked with austere voice that made the girl bent her head in obedient gesture and shut her mouth. "Very well, then. Now start eating."

She had not given up opposing him, but that was an order that thanks to her hunger she was more than willing to follow. In fact the gypsy put a great effort in restraining herself not to seem too eager about the given opportunity to eat. However, those efforts were poorly met as she rapidly took the fork beside her plate and hungrily devoured one of the eggs along with a french toast. Her mouth filled up with the incredible flavor of the food as she tasted the salty, fresh eggs and the sweet bread. She thought that she had never had better breakfast before, constantly reminding herself not to look as she had liked any of it. After she had chewed and swallowed what she had succeeded to put at once in her mouth, and had relieved the major pain of hunger, she snapped out of the surprised state of the good food and automatically looked towards Frollo.

He had not eaten yet, as he had been with fixed, thoughtful eyes towards her and as she drew her attention again to him, he smirked with contentment. She stared at him for a moment, regaining the detest in her eyes, then she glanced again towards her plate as her hunger was not completely satisfied yet and she could not fight it anymore. She swallowed another bite of eggs and a croissant. From what she could see with her side- view she observed the minister's head bending towards the table as well. But he did not look towards the meal, as his hands joined before him in a praying manner, his head was respectfully down (something that the gypsy had never witnessed him doing before) and his eyes closed as he started muttering unfamiliar for Esmeralda words:

"Bénedic, Dómine, nos et haec  
tua dona quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi.  
Per Christum Dóminum nostrum. Amen."*

He was crossing himself as he heard the mocking snorting of the gypsy that was turning in a broken up laughter. He looked at her coldly as she lifted her eyes from the table and did the same, sporadically putting a disrespectful smile on her face.

"After all that you did with me do you still thing that it matters if you say your meal prayer or not," she said mockingly, watching insultingly straight at him. His eyes shrunk with hatred as his lips transformed in a sickened smile.

"Witch, as yourself, is not fitted to judge me in the eyes of the Lord."

"But you are fitted to judge us," the gypsy mocked sarcastically. "Is your god only punishing those that are inconvenient to you?" This time Esmeralda was determined not to remain silent.

"Hold your tongue for matters that are not in your knowledge," the minister said through clenched teeth.

"I know enough about your Christianity to realize that you use it against my people to chase them off their homes and to kill them because of their color and beliefs," the gypsy talked back with spite.

"Those people are sinners in the eyes of God, criminals in France and so are you!"

"And is it not a sin and a crime what are you doing to me?! What your religion would say about fucking a woman, who is not your wife?"

"Silence, you witch," the judge shouted, losing his entire temper. "It would be far greater iniquity to unite myself with pagan in the eyes of the Lord! Abomination," his entire body was shacking with rage. "My soul would rotten in the eternal fires of Hell! My sins are none of your concern and I warn you, shut your mouth and do not dare, pagan as yourself, teach me of Christianity!"

He was completely lost in wrath and he had tightened his entire body, so at least to prevent himself from jumping at her and killing her. She remained looking at him arrogantly, but did not speak up. They were both staring intently at each other, desiring that the hatred of their eyes would be enough to destroy the other. The gypsy looked down to her plate as she sighed with frustration. The judge did the same as he took his fork and started eating slowly small bites of his food. Esmeralda was messing around her food, barely eating, sunken in her thoughts. The mutual silence was resumed for several minutes. All of the sudden the gypsy lifted her head again to Frollo and said with deterministic and cool voice:

"Then teach me."

The minister looked at her, a little bit calmer than before, putting the fork on the table, and with distrustful, cold tone replied:

"Teach you what?"

"Your religion," she started coldly. "Teach me so I can understand why the sins are forgiven when you can pay for them, why the evil is to be blamed on those that are with different color from yours…"

"Hold your tongue," Frollo again raised his voice.

"… and what it is good in burning people."

"I am warning you to control yourself," the judge threatened, as he himself was losing patience.

"Teach me what kind of person you need to be," she continued louder, "in order the mother of God to forgive you when you rape me, you hypocrite!"

"That's enough," he yelled, as he stood up from his chair and without the gypsy could realize what had happened, he ran to her, grabbing with one hand her neck and with the other furiously pushing on the floor the dishes that had been in front of her. He lifted her by the neck and as he still held her he twisted her and pressed her back on the table. She felt how her legs were barely touching the floor, as Frollo closed his face towards her and she could see the frantic features of rage on his expression.

"Never dare speak of the Virgin Mary, you pagan," the minister barked in her face. "You desecrate her name only by thinking of it. You are not worthy…"

"And you are," the gypsy interrupted him, barely breathing beneath his grip. He tightened his hand harder and she choked.

"I am more worthy than you would ever be, you little witch. I am so much pure than the all vulgar, weak and licentious people of yours. If I have ever sinned it is because of your witchcraft. Don't pretend yourself good, as I am the only truly righteous one here. And in heaven my base deeds would be laid upon you, because you are the demon that seduced me to sin them!"

Esmeralda did not say anything. Her entire body was hurting and she simply did not have as much strength to fight him back as she anticipated. She felt as he pressed her harder with his body to the table, intensely staring at her.

"I believe we are done with that subject, are we not," he asked as he tightened his grip around her throat. Her eyes filled up with tears and she closed them as she barely could shake her head in agreement. "Good, very well then," the judge hissed as he slid his hand to her face, roughly clutching it between his bony fingers so to open her mouth.

Esmeralda tried to resist, but it was worthless. He leaned towards her and the gypsy felt his tongue making its way in her mouth. He passionately kissed her, causing her more pain and disgust than everything else in that moment. He circled around her lips, as he traced his tongue and mouth over her skin. He breathed heavily as his hand felt up her entire body and started slowly lifting her dress. She felt him arousing and with horror closed her eyes. Suddenly he moved off her, as he roughly pushed her body to the table. He turned toward the door and took a moment in which to suppress the produced emotions. The gypsy slowly put her feet on the floor, standing near the table, but she did not dare to do anything further. The judge went to his seat, taking his hat from the table, where he had put it, and advanced to the door, as he had scarcely touched his breakfast.

"Paulette," he said with loud, impatient tone, as he opened the door. After a moment the servant, that had woke and brought Esmeralda to breakfast this morning showed up as she obediently bowed in front of Frollo.

"Yes, minister Frollo?"

The judge barely turned to Esmeralda with imperious look, as he said to the servant:

"I have matters to attend to so make sure to escort her back to my chamber, and on the way out use the key that I gave you."

"As you order, sir," the woman respectfully bent her head.

"And for goodness sake, clean up that mess," the minister said pointing at the spilled dishes and food on the floor.

"Of course, sir," the servant said as she bowed one more time.

Esmeralda was still standing near the table, apathetically fixed her eyes towards them and dully listening to what they said, sunken in her thoughts. After Frollo had commanded some other daily duties to the servant he had left the room without saying any word to the gypsy. In the room remained the girl and the older woman. The servant advanced toward Esmeralda and as she passed her indifferently she bent toward the floor and started cleaning up the mess. The gypsy numbly watched her. The woman succeeded to gather most of the dishes and the spilled food in the biggest bow and plate. She struggled to grab them together, but they were too full and inconvenient for one person to carry. The servant looked at the frozen gypsy above her, knowing that she cannot leave her alone in this room (as those were the minister's orders) and that it would be pointless to drag her twice to the kitchen and back while she takes care of the mess on the floor.

"What is the matter with you," she silently scolded the girl making her snap out of her thoughts. "Are you too proud to help me with this," the servant asked as she pointed towards the gathered remains from the breakfast.

Esmeralda involuntary thought of Frollo, as she heard the other woman mentioning pride.

"No, I am not," she mechanically said as she bent, took the bow and followed the servant outside the room.

* * *

_* Bless us, O Lord, and these  
thy gifts which we are about  
to receive from thy bounty,  
through Christ our Lord. Amen. (Latin)_


	4. Chastity

OK, that took some time... But thanks to the vacations I finally finished it :)

Just warning there are sexual and violence themes, so if you have a problem with it don't read it.

I would love reviews and here we go... Enjoy!

_**Vices and Virtues**_

Chastity:

Esmeralda found herself again in the empty bedroom. She heard how the servant who had just escorted her closed and locked the door behind. The gypsy was for one more time alone in the room which was giving her only horror and disgust. She stood up for a while at the center of it, not moving, sunken in her thoughts. She snapped out of it as shivers of cold ran all over her skin. She automatically surrounded her hands around her body and looked around. At the one end of the bed she found a small blanket that would serve in keeping her warm. She went to it and after a moment of hesitation she took it and covered her back and arms with it. She looked at the door. There was this feeling in her stomach that every moment the judge would appear there and strip her bare again.

The gypsy sighed and automatically walked to the window. Outside was a chilly day, but the sun was bright in the sky. All people seemed somewhat happy and occupied in their daily routines. They all looked peaceful...busy- completely forgotten all about the gypsies and Esmeralda. The girl noticed that despite of all the effort of the judge to chase every gypsy from the town, there was quite a few that could be seen from her viewpoint. Some of them were begging, others were making tricks… but they had also forgotten the events that had happened just yesterday. Esmeralda sighed. It seemed that life had continued without missing her at all. An involuntary tear slipped to her cheek as the girl knelt and continued to watch numbly the outside view. She was there, up in the locked room, where her only participation in life was observing others' lives. Without giving it much thought her mind involuntary wondered whether Quasimodo had felt the same way when he was at the bell tower of Notre Dame all these years.

Quasimodo. Her mind roughly snapped out from the drifting stage. Esmeralda felt pain in her chest as she realized that just now she had thought of him. Surely she included him when she was thinking that she would never see her friends, but she had not really thought of him. She felt guilt and shame because of that. The hunchback had been treating her only with kindness and she refused to believe that she was so ungrateful to that person. Indeed, he had helped her in many hard times and for the first time since a couple of days she seriously wondered what had happened to him. She had completely forgotten him when pleading for the freedom of the gypsies and Phoebus, and she had no idea what Frollo had done to him. For a moment she paused in those thoughts, making herself feeling guiltier and more depressed. Some time passed in that manner as she finally came to the conclusion that beating herself up for him would not do any good to neither of them. Anyway, she could not get the information of what had happened to him right away so she needed to postpone it when the judge comes back. That thought made her resent herself for even thinking it. Of course she did not want to see the minister ever again, but that was hardly possible. She wondered what time he was usually coming home. She shook her head in frustration. The image of him was making her sick and she decided that it was best to avoid any thoughts about him.

But the boredom was getting greater as the minutes passed and she was all alone in that dreadful place. She stood up from the floor near the window and walked her legs around the room. Her whole body was hurting from the constant sitting and she was still cold so she surrounded the blanket closer around her shoulders. She involuntary advanced towards the bed, but immediately changed her mind, thinking that that was a bad idea and directed to the wall with shelves. They were all full of various books from different sizes, colors and time. She traced her fingers to the row in front of her face. All books seemed not used for a long time as the gypsy gathered the dust from them on her fingertips. But as she went on one of the books had no dust on it at all. She put her finger on it and paused. Then she roughly grabbed it pulling it out from the shelf. The book was not much bigger than her hand and nothing was written on its cover as it was just a leather black one. She opened it and stared at the symbols. She certainly was not illiterate, as most people considered the gypsies, but that book was written in unknown for her language. As she went over the pages she saw a picture of a cross on one page so she presumed that that was some kind of catholic prayer book written in Latin. Even though she could not understand it she spent a few more minutes looking at the pages. Her attention stopped at one page which was all covered up with the unknown words, as one of those words was circled with an ink over it. She stared at the word, trying to read it:

"Castitas*," she whispered then after another pause she rigidly closed the book and put it back on its place.

The lonely girl went through other books as well. She presumed that not all of them were Christian, but there were also judicial, law, historical and science readings. They were all written in Latin so the girl did not have better success with them. Most of the dust from the books was removed by the time she got bored in taking them from the shelves and looking at them without any understanding.

It had been passed more than four hours and her stomach was starting to hurt from hunger again. She had satisfied it during breakfast, but as she had not had the chance to finish her eating she quickly felt the starving pain again. For a moment she regretted that she had not succeeded to keep her mouth shut so she could have eatten more in the morning, but she instantly scolded herself for the thought. She walked around the room (she had forgotten for which time now), as she fixed her eyes to the full with documents desk. Everything there looked abandoned from quite some time as well. She quickly got bored as she saw the unfamiliar Latin words and for a moment her mind wondered what is the point to know how to read if everything was written in a different language? She shook her head in frustration as she walked again the room. This time her attention stopped near the fireplace, which was not lighted. Almost instantly a knock on the door was heard, as the old servant unlocked the door and the younger one from the morning entered with a tray that she placed on a small table in front of the bed. She bowed silently and advanced to the exit. Paulette did the same as she automatically said:

"If that is convenient with you, miss, I shall come after an hour to take the tray."

Esmeralda just nodded in agreement and without any more words the two servants left the room. The gypsy almost instantly took the tray as she sat on the carpet next to the little table, placing the food on the floor next to her. She hungrily started eating some of the bread and the soup from it as her stare remained on the cold fireplace and the big, black metal cross above it. Shivers ran all over her as she looked at it and she wondered how she had not noticed it before.

She had been in the cathedral of Notre Dame a few times but the crosses there were looking welcoming and blessed. The one above the fireplace however did not inspire the same feelings in the girl. As she stared at the crossed metal hanged on the cold, stone wall she became more and more convinced that it was not welcoming her. Still she could not break up her eyes from the freezing view.

**IT WAS** already dark when Frollo reached his home. He slammed the front door and entered the lighted with candles house. Not long after that the older servant Paulette and the younger one appeared in front of him, respectfully bowing their heads, ready to be ordered something if needed. The judge looked at them automatically and advanced a few steps towards the stairs. He had a tired and angry expression. The servants knew by the appearance of their master that he must have not had a pleasant day and his rage was most likely still with him. They were both trying to avoid eye contact and not to give him any reasons to spill out his anger upon them. He stared at the top of the stairs thoughtfully then he turned coldly towards the two women:

"Has she given you any trouble," the judge asked with his usual low voice.

"No, sir," silently Paulette replied.

"Did you give her food," he continued after a pause.

"Yes, sir," the old servant said as she slightly nodded her head in agreement, "as you ordered."

"Did you make sure to stay locked?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good," the minister drawled after another pause. "Return me the key now and you both may retire for the night."

The servant did as told, and after they respectfully bowed they observed as their master climbed up the stairs and disappeared from their views.

"The poor girl," the younger woman whispered to the other one who was still with her head down. "What do you think he will do to the gypsy," she asked as she looked at Paulette.

"That is none of my business," the older servant said indignantly. "And surely it is none of your concern as well. Young miss, I am warning you to watch your tongue," the woman scolded, "…to slander the minister may do you more than just kicking you out on the street."

"Of course, madam, please forgive my ignorance," the younger servant said embarrassed, pointing her head down.

The two women heard some noises coming from upstairs and they both decided that was time to retire in their rooms. They walked in silence and separated without saying a thing, both of them consumed in their own concerns, but too afraid to share them out loudly.

**FROLLO** hastily walked to the door of his room and automatically put the key in the locker. Esmeralda's heart tightened as she heard the noise of unlocking. The servants had brought her lunch and dinner during the day, but now she doubted that this was them. She was sitting on the floor as her eyes intensely got fixed towards the exit. The judge entered inside as he roughly pushed the door, which made the gypsy to startle and immediately jump up on her feet. Frollo looked at her impatiently and without moving his eyes from her he slammed the door behind him. The girl closed her eyes in reflex, as her head sunk with fear in her shoulders. As the judge carelessly tossed aside his hat he ran to her with incredible anger which made the gypsy shiver.

All day she knew that this moment would come and she just hoped to have enough courage to oppose him. But now when he grabbed her and forced his tongue inside of her she sadly realized how helpless she was in his presence. He thirsted himself deeper in her mouth, digging his fingers harder into her skin and passionately tried to suck all the moist that she had. He suddenly pulled himself from her as his hand slid to her back and ran through her hair. Frollo gazed at her with disgust, grabbing her dark curls and harshly pulling them down. From the pain her head bent backwards making her face the ceiling. The judge again paused. His entire expression was composed of combination between wrath, fatigue, lust and irritation. He traced with the fingers of his free hand her moistened lips, sliding down to her chin, neck and the collar of her prison robe. He again leaned to her, as his lips pressed onto hers. She felt his yearning tongue and teeth going around her lips and skin as they followed the same direction as his fingers did. He sunk his head beneath hers, into her dark skin, still pulling her hair and head backwards. She could feel the moist that he was leaving all over her. She tried to protest, but the judge snapped out of his thrill, roughly clutching her shoulders. He looked at her green eyes that were now lit up disgust and hatred.

"You are causing me too much trouble," he drawled abhorrently, curling up his lips.

Another pause followed as they watch each other intensely. Then, all of a sudden he clawed into her skin and severely dragged her and pushed her to the nearest wall. She held her breath with panic as she saw his face coming closer to hers. He made another half kiss and continued with spite:

"If I had burnt the vermin that I spared, I would have saved myself a lot of annoyance," he breathed heavily in front of her face. "But witch like you will not give me any peace, will you," he smirked and tasted her lips again.

She remained silent, trying her best to escape him. His hands slid to her breasts as he started lustfully exploring them. Esmeralda turned her face aside with disgust. He harshly clutched her chin with his fingers and coldly sneered into her ear:

"Today in the Palace of Justice a gypsy was blamed to have stolen money. Right from the morning the devil starts his work," he hissed.

Esmeralda looked at him confused:

"What are you talking about," she barely produced between the grip of the minister over her face, but succeeded to sound repulsed. He breathed in, and as his eyes enlarged he said coldly:

"What I am talking about is that another demon of yours has robbed a righteous citizen and today I had to deal with it." He curled up his lips: "But hopefully the pillory would teach him a lesson."

The girl looked at him indignantly and disgusted:

"You demon…" she could not finish her sentence as the judge squeezed her tighter and she seized with pain.

"The only demon here is you and your kind," he said viciously. He paused and looked at her, and then he broke the silence: "Another gypsy was convicted of attacking a soldier," he sneered with pleasure. "Tomorrow she would be hanged at the gallows along with another of your kind that committed the crime of prostitution."

Esmeralda's eyes filled up with tears:

"Monster," she whispered.

He grinned and kissed her deeply as his hands went lower to her waist and hips. She felt his fingers running all over her, through the robe, as now they were on her inner thighs and started going up. She tightened up her legs together, but that just made him push between them harder. He lustfully rubbed his hand between her legs as he roughly lifted her up above the ground.

"Whore, as you should be burning as well," he drawled nastily as he hit her head on the stone wall and he thirsted his lips into her dark skin. Esmeralda whimpered in pain, which made Frollo even more ecstatic. He was again starting to lose his self- control.

"How dare you…" she tried to protest but that resulted in another painful hit to the wall.

"I shall tell you how I dare, little witch," he shouted as he harshly dropped her and grabbed again her face with his cold fingers. "Thanks to you I let the vermin of Paris go free and now they are sneaking back to the city. This afternoon they tried to get back by the river and by the time I arrived, there was an entire riot happening! It took hours to the guards to take over the situation."

Esmeralda's eyes again filled up with tears. Her mind was rapidly wondering and worrying about the gypsies that had tried to return- who were they, how many of them were hurt- all questions were blending in with horror in her head. The judge viciously smiled, enjoying her suffering.

"Yes, Esmeralda, I ordered the soldiers to kill everyone they caught," he coldly drawled as he was guessing her thoughts. "And the same fate shall follow everyone that would like to follow their example," he grinned.

"Don't you have any conscious," the girl cried out in disgust.

"The only think that I regret is that I let some of them escape me," he replied as he coldly stared at her.

After another pause he pinned her shoulders and made another kiss. Her entire back was hurting from the force that he was putting her through. Frollo pressed himself into her as her numb body felt his arousing member. She made another hopeless try to oppose him, starting fighting him violently. Frollo was losing more and more of his patience as her rebellious body was interfering with his intentions. She was aggressively moving in all directions as her hands were doing their best to protect her body from his touches. With rage he pulled her from the wall and with incredible force the girl found herself thrown on the bed. She felt as the cover of the bed was suddenly taken from beneath her and tossed aside. Before she could do anything at all the judge jumped over her as his body prevented her from any further moves. He impatiently grabbed the collar of her robe and roughly started pulling it off her breasts. The judge felt the familiar aching pain between his legs as he torn the old cloth from her upper body. She was still resisting, but that didn't matter anymore- he was determined to have her now.

"Don't you have any soul," she cried out in desperation. "You will BURN IN HELL FOR THIS!" she yelled contemptuously.

Frollo reached her face and as he coldly looked at her he said viciously:

"I already do."

After a pause his hands renewed their work as he torn down the rest of the robe from her violently moving legs and threw it aside. Esmeralda's hands automatically went over her breasts, as she tried to cover her completely naked body from the yearning stare of the minister. He surrounded her with his legs, keeping her body under control, as he lifted himself above her, standing on his knees. He was still impatiently looking all over her as he quickly took off his judicial robe, remaining only with his black pants underneath it. He was breathing heavily; he could sense his wild heartbeat beneath his chest and the yearning pain between his legs. He desperately needed to relieve it and he needed it now.

Esmeralda with horror saw the swelling in his pants and renewed her struggling. It was pointless as the judge laid his body over her again, restricting any further resist. She did not give up as her head was thrown back at the pillow and she was desperately fighting back with all her strength. Tears and cries of despair filled up the dark space. Frollo did not care for it, now he did not care for anything except his desire that was growing with every moment. He was inhaling heavily air; his whole body was shaking with excitement- all these made him feel as he would finish before even he have started. He took her knees in his hands and harshly pushed them aside as he opened up her legs to place himself between them. He climbed to her face, rubbing her entire naked body on the way. He changed his mind, as one of his hands went back down, as he pulled down his pants. He roughly grabbed her wrists and pinned them near her head. She was still struggling, but it was pointless. Frollo lifted himself a little bit and thirsted his throbbing member into her. She was hard. She had tightened herself up as much as she could, but the judge forced himself harder. Influx of air filled up his lungs as his entire body was shaking with ecstasy. He moaned heavily as he started moving into her. He had completely given in the never before committed sin of flesh. He had lost all senses of reality and was violently going deeper and deeper into her. That was what he had always feared what he had always despised- he was more than weak, now his entire mind was begging for more and more of the never experienced sinful pleasure.

He snapped out of his ecstasy, startling up as he realized that Esmeralda was screaming on the top of her lungs. He automatically lifted his hand and harshly slapped her through the face, pressing his hand over her mouth:

"Shut up, you witch," he sneered between his teeth.

Suddenly, he realized that his whole hand was wet by her tears. She was still sobbing. He roughly pulled out of her and lifted himself above her. He stared at the tortured gypsy, who was now silently crying. He looked down inadvertently and paused numbly. His manhood and the white sheet beneath it were adorned with blood. He moved his eyes again towards her and back down, trying to comprehend what had just happened. He smirked nervously.

"The witch was virtuous," he drawled coldly. His face took a mingled expression of surprise, mockery, confusion, guilt and libidinous lust. She did not reply. She was still sobbing, staring bluntly the ceiling. He was observing her intensely for a moment as her chest was inhaling and exhaling rapidly the air. They were both stilled in the time, and then suddenly the judge again laid over her, as he grabbed her arms.

"Don't worry," he sneered mockingly. "They say it hurts only in the beginning."

He harshly turned her head aside, so not to look at her crying face anymore. He was most certainly feeling a great guilt and shame by what he had just done, but these emotions were deadened by the impatient desire to finish what he had started. In his entire life he had never before experienced the sins of the flesh, but now when he had he was greedy for more of it. He shoved his aching member back in her-she was still struggling, but she was far less hard to get into this time. He moaned as his body shivered with pleasure. He stilled, and then roughly moved deeper, making her whimper with pain. He didn't care; he had forgotten any sympathy, feelings or self- control towards her, all that he could care about was that her body was giving him incredible bliss and she was nothing more than that. His grip got lighter as he moved slightly backwards, just to make another painful push back in her. She wasn't screaming anymore, she was not whimpering either; her tears were silently spilling all over her cheeks. Esmeralda continued her weak struggles with all her left strength, but she knew that it was pointless. He had already conquered her. She was numbly hearing his groans of pleasure; feeling his sweated skin, rubbing all over hers; and tasting his moistened tongue, which was constantly going in and around her mouth. But she had not given up the fight. She had tightened her body as much as she could, however that was just causing her more agony. Her genitals were hurting as he was pushing farther and farther into them.

Frollo was ecstatic, euphoric. He was rhythmically moving his pelvis surrounded by her legs, and thirstily exploring with his hands every flesh of the gypsy. Her skin was warm from her desperate movements, which made the judge ever more fervent for her. His whole body was covered with sweat, his heartbeat was running wild, and he was heavily breathing each time he was pushing into her, longing for more and more. She was entirely warm- her flesh, her tears, her inside… The judge moaned loudly as he pushed harder into her.

"Rapist," she painfully cried out. He put his hand again over her mouth, pressing roughly her head to the pillows.

"Shut up," the judge puffed out heavily.

He pushed harder into her as he groaned again. His rhythm was now disturbed by deeper and irregular movements inside of her. He was going slowly, but with incredible harsh and force, causing her more pain than ever. His moans got more frequent and he was feeling big drops of sweat running all over his face. He was blissfully enjoying the sense of her thighs on his bare skin. His breathing increased as he felt a great rush running through his spine. He pushed his member deeper and started thirsting himself more and more in her, speeding up his rhythm. He was quickly inhaling and exhaling, as he closed his eyes putting his head backwards. He moaned again and again, overwhelmed with pleasure and greed for more. Frollo bitted his lip to stop himself from yelling with joy. He was more senseless to her than ever. He was pushing and pushing, tightening his hands harder and harder. Somewhere in his mind he could hear her distance deafened cries and he viciously directed his enlarged eyes towards her. It was only then when he realized that his hand which was on her mouth was now squeezing her face, causing her incredible pain. He rigidly moved it off her, as he angrily pressed his pelvis harder into hers.

Esmeralda gasped with suppressed weep, not daring to give a sound again. She was overwhelmed with pain which was paralyzing and making her submit numbly to his terrors. The minister was blindly watching at her as his body was becoming more and more violent. The sense of her surrendering, the cold sweat running all over him, and the heavenly delights were all mixed up in a messy ecstasy. His look got blurrier as his eyes filled up with tears of pleasure. His entire body was convulsively shaking in bliss and his legs were getting weaker and weaker. He thirsted again and again, harder and harder, causing himself as much delight as pain to the gypsy. He moaned again and again, overlapping the moments of pleasure and groans, reaching the final moment of the lost of his righteousness. His eyes closed, letting a blissful tear run through his pale cheek, as he gasped heavily without any air left in his lungs. He was spent.

He become to heavily inhale and exhale as his body started recovering from the rush. He was still above Esmeralda as he laid on her, feeling up her skin, breasts, and heartbeat over his. She was numbly looking aside, her entire face covered with tears. The room remained still for a few moments, as the last lighted candle, which was on the one side of the bed, was burning out. Frollo stared at its fire, breathing heavily. He suddenly lifted himself above her as he looked at her face. He paused for a moment, and then harshly pulled himself off her, making her silently whimper in pain.

The judge rolled over, lying on his back next to her. His chest was still recovering the lost air. Still lying he pulled his pants over his waist and took the tossed aside cover and laid it over himself and her. She was still not moving, breathing lightly in and out. Frollo looked again at her, pausing as thinking over something, then turned and blew the fire out of the candle. He laid back, but not right next to her, giving her some space. Then Frollo slowly fell into the sleep of a sinner who spent out by his vices.

* * *

*Chastity (Latin)


	5. Generosity

_**Vices and Virtues**_

Generosity:

Esmeralda had not slept the entire night. There were times, in which she was drifting away, but as soon as she had closed her eyes, scenes of the actions of the minister were passing before her and she was opening her eyes with horror. She had covered her body with the cover that Frollo had laid over her and had huddled up at the end of the bed. She was facing the windows, as she had turned her back to the remained side of the bed, where the judge was sleeping. Shivers were running all over her, when she was thinking about him, being so close to her naked body. That was the other thing that kept her awake. The gypsy's chest was filling up with horror whenever she thought of leaving herself unconscious in his hands. Now her eyes were opened, blindly looking in the dark, as she was in a half awakened half asleep state- incapable to do none of them anymore. She was listening numbly at the sounds around her.

She could clearly hear the regular breathing of the minister, somewhere behind her; the slightest and indistinguishable outside sounds, which were sometimes interrupted by something loud, but in most cases quickly deadened noise. She was barely breathing, feeling the contact of the cover and sheets with her bare skin, and desperately wanting to ignore these sensations. The tears from earlier had long ago dried on her cheeks- she had got tired to spill them uncontrollably, but she could still sense her red and swollen from all the cry face. Both her head and eyes were hurting as she observed how the darkness was slowly disappearing into the light. The sun had not yet risen, but with every passed moment she could distinguish the surrounded her room clearer and clearer. The time was passing slowly, very slowly, as it seemed for ages to Esmeralda, but in the same time she desperately wanted the night to stay. She knew that the morning meant that the judge would wake up and that terrified her. It was still relatively silent outside, but with every new awaking citizen that she could hear from the window, her anxiety was getting greater and greater. She finally dared to turn, as she had wondered from some time now whether the judge was awake or not and eventually curiosity got the better of her. Without moving much of her body, she slightly turned her head to the minister, hoping that he was still asleep. He was lying on one side, facing the windows as well, and he was with his eyes closed, not showing any signs of wakefulness. She quickly turned back to the window. She breathed heavily as she closed her eyes in relief. Then she looked through the window to the sky. The first sun rays were braking through the gray clouds. She lightly turned again to the minister, who was still pretty unconscious. Her heartbeat increased at the thought that he might awake any minute. All night she had thought over and over the possibility to run, but she knew that it was pointless and would only lead to her dead and probably to many other tortures. She stared at him with the incredible desire to kill him. That man had taken from her everything- her friends, her life, her love and now her innocence.

She had never understood the Christianity beliefs for abstinence before marriage, but her virginity was something that she was proud of. She had not told it to many people and she was certainly not showing it off, but she had always believed in the one love, with whom she would have shared that moment. Her eyes filled up with tears and she turned back to the windows, as she closed them and a tear rolled over her cheek. She had hoped that Phoebus would be the one man that would show her the passions of the flesh. But the captain had gone away, leaving her to be ravished by the man she despised. Her eyes closed again, as she forced herself not to think in that way. The gypsy wanted Phoebus to be free, and she was sure that the judge had changed the truth, so her loved one to seem bad. Esmeralda did not believe the minister's words that the captain had willingly and gratefully agreed to move from Paris and to continue as a soldier, leaving the gypsy behind. She sighed heavily, distracted a little bit with these thoughts, forgetting about the anxiety of the moment that her torturer would awake. She turned automatically to him for a third time, and then she saw him staring intensely back at her. Esmeralda froze as hers and his eyes met, and she felt cold shivers running all over her body.

The judge teasingly curled his lips in satisfaction, as his face got the expression of mocking pleasure. His eyes quickly shifted down to the cover, which started from her chin and which she was firmly holding all over her body. He made another ridiculing smile, as his eyes pierced back at hers. She automatically turned her head back to the window, feeling with horror the approaching her minister. She shivered as his cold fingers touched her shoulder under the covers, and then ran down to her back. His body moved right next to hers, as she felt one of his legs surrounding her bare ones. Frollo's hand, which was down to her back moved to her stomach, hungrily spreading his fingers over her skin, and pulling her closer to him. She breathed deeply in objection, as she buried her head in the corner of the bed. The judge pulled off a little bit the cover from her, revealing her soft shoulder. He passionately kissed it, tracing his downer lip over her skin. He inhaled impatiently, roughly grabbing her shoulder and turning her, so she could lay on her back. Beneath the cover he rolled over her, making another libidinous kiss on her neck. She pulled her head aside with disgust.

"What are you doing," she broke out without even thinking, trying to escape his look. He sneered viciously.

"What does it look like," he drawled mockingly, pressing his body harder to hers, and lustfully feeling her forms.

She rapidly shifted her head to the windows, as his lips reached for hers. Instead he traced his tongue over her cheek, making her close her eyes in repulsion. He suddenly stopped, as his head pulled back from hers, and he lifted himself above her, looking through the window. He made a pause, then turned again to the naked beneath him gypsy, and then again to the window, as he seemed he was thinking over something. He heavily sighed, as his face got the expression of dissatisfaction and irritation. He rigidly rolled off her, getting off on the side of the bed next to the window. Esmeralda rapidly took the cover that he had tossed aside, and wrapped herself in it, as she sat on the bed. He did not pay attention. He took his gown from the floor, dressing it and searched for his head. His look stopped at what used to be the robe that the gypsy was wearing just a few hours ago. It was torn apart and it was definitely not in any condition to be worn again. His eyes shifted to the girl somewhat absent- mindedly.

As he found his hat he took it in one hand and directed to the door. The girl intensely observed him as he reached the door and after a pause turned to her.

"As unfortunate as it may seem, my darling," he drawled mockingly, "early matters require my attention and I do not desire to be late for them. The burning of the two witches that I have mentioned to you will take place this morning and I must attend at it." He sneered, "There is nothing more pleasing than to return the demons back to their eternal hell," he grinned viciously, but his expression suggested more irritation than satisfaction.

"Monster," the gypsy repulsively clenched through her teeth.

"I shall order someone to bring you breakfast," he continued formally, ignoring what she had just said "… and to clean the chamber," he added as he looked around the room.

Without any more words the judge left and Esmeralda heard him locking the door from outside. She sighed unfortunately as she let her back fall heavily on the bed. She closed her eyes in despair, hearing the fading away steps of the minister and loudly burst into tears.

-∞-

The burning of the two women was indeed early in the morning, but that did not stopped a big crowd to have been gathered by the time Frollo arrived at the place. Some of the people were passionately objecting, others were loudly laughing and mocking, or had just come to see the execution. To the peasants of the fifteenth century the pillories and the gallows were bringing the greatest shows and amusements, so in Paris there was rarely an execution that was without a big crowd gathered around it. Most of the people did not know who those women were, or for what they were accused, but they quickly expressed the feelings that the surrounded them neighbors had.

The guards were dragging the convicted gypsies when Frollo started reading the accusations. He had a loud voice, but no matter of it most of his words were quickly lost among the cries and yelling of the crowd and the two women. Usually the judge was enjoying this part, when he was personally attending and seeing through his cases (especially when they ended up with burning of the guilty), but this time he did not. He was absent- minded through his entire reading of the verdict, impatiently wanting to finish it quickly. When he did he turned to the accused and mechanically asked:

"Do you confess your sins?"

The woman sentenced to die, because of attacking a soldier remained sullen and silent, but the other one, accused in prostitution, was frantically crying and pleading.

"I have done nothing wrong," she was hysterically repeating over and over again.

"Do you repent," the minister yelled one more time irritably.

"I am innocent," the crying gypsy shouted out. "Please, let me go. Those men are lying!"

"May God have mercy on both of you," the minister said as he crossed himself and moved away, letting two men with torches come forward and put each of them to the pile of woods in the feet of the convicted women.

The women died quickly from the smoke, but the fire burnt out slowly. The witnesses of the verdict remained there to benefit from the warmth that the fire was giving them, but significant part from the crowd had left long ago. The officials had to see it through to the end, so Frollo was still there. He had blindly watched the horrified cries of the women and their convulsively struggling bodies, which were slowly eaten by the flames. He was not moved by that, he knew that he was doing the right thing in the eyes of God and he had never regretted for any sentence of murder that he had given. But standing there, his mind started to wonder about Esmeralda.

"_She should have been burned by now,"_ he thought blindly watching the remained flames. The judge's thoughts slipped to the previous night that he had with her and he immediately felt the need to have her again.

"_Patience_," he scolded himself, but then gradually other memories started mingling in his mind, drifting him away from the present events:

"_You will BURN IN HELL FOR THIS!"; "Monster!"__(Esmeralda's voice) (cries)_

"_Whore, as you should be burning as well." (Frollo's voice) _

"_Don't you have any conscious?"; "I am cold…" (Esmeralda)_

"_They say it hurts only in the beginning." (laughs); "Shut up!"; "You are causing me too much trouble." (Frollo)_

"_Is your god only punishing those that are inconvenient to you?" (Esmeralda)_

"_Get on the bed."; "I want to see your face during every moment of it" (Frollo) (laughs)_

"_Then__you teach me." (Esmeralda)_

"…_unite myself with pagan in the eyes of the Lord! ABOMINATION!" (Frollo)_

"_What your religion would say about fucking a woman?"; "…forgive you when you rape me…" (Esmeralda)_

"_Witch, as yourself, is not fitted to judge me in the eyes of the Lord."; __"THE WITCH WAS VIRTUOUS!" (Frollo) (laughs)_

"_Please, don't stop. I am all yours, possess me." (fantasized Esmeralda)_

"_Those people are sinners in the eyes of God, criminals in France and so are you!" (Frollo)_

_(groans of pleasure)_

"_How can I ever respect you?" (Esmeralda) _

"_Beata Maria, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee…"; __"You are not worthy…" (Frollo)_

"Minister Frollo," a loud voice next to his ear startled the judge quickly snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What," he scorned, still gathering his attention.

"It is over…," a soldier said indecisively.

Frollo looked around and realized that the fire was gone, leaving only ashes behind, and many of the people were gone, as only the soldiers remained.

"Good," the minister drawled coldly, as his mind was still a little bit drifted away in thoughts.

"What are your orders…" the soldier asked after a pause. Frollo looked at him, as if he was awakening just now and said more authoritatively.

"My orders? My orders, captain, are to start doing your job," he said viciously. "Tell your soldiers to secure better the enters of the city, and if I have to bear one more rebellion I shall burn you, instead, for helping them."

"It won't happen again, sir."

"Pray the Lord you are right," the minister drawled carelessly. "I will not appear in the court for the rest of the day, so make sure another judge to take over my cases."

"Yes, sir," the captain replied, as he made sign to one of his soldiers to follow the order.

Frollo looked at the burned copses of the women: "And for goodness sake take care of this mess."

"Of course, sir," the man made another sign to a soldier.

Frollo walked thoughtfully to his carriage, leaving the soldiers behind.

"Take me to the Notre Dame cathedral," he ordered, as he got in the carriage. He had suddenly felt the urge to compensate for his last night's actions…

-∞-

"That is very generous of you," the archdeacon of the cathedral drawled skeptically, as he approached Frollo, who had just thrown a few silver florins into a donation box in the feet of a statue of the Holy Virgin. The minister looked at him. He had not seen him since the morning after the imprisoning of the gypsies, in which the archdeacon had come to plead on their behalf, and the judge had of course ignored him.

"So tell me, minister," the priest continued with despondent sarcasm in his voice, "is there any particular reason for being so generous this afternoon?"

The judge turned again to the statue, bent his head in respect and crossed himself. Then he looked coldly the archdeacon and clenched through his teeth: "Mind your own business, old man, and just be thankful for the money." Frollo stared at him authoritatively for a second, and then headed to the exit, as he passed him.

"He had asked for you," the archdeacon said, as he watched the reaction of the minister. Frollo paused, but did not turn. "Won't you go to visit him?"

"Not today," the judge said coldly and then he turned to the priest, somewhat consumed in his thoughts. "I don't have the time today."

"I don't think he would like to hear that," the archdeacon said slowly, as his eyes were staring at the minister's ones intensely. The minister grinned irritably:

"Then tell him what he would like to hear. I don't care," he said, as he started to turn again.

"You know that this time is different," the priest said after a pause.

"Different?"

"Your crimes are noticed not only by the Lord, but by the people as well. You can no longer excuse your sins, and most certainly you cannot simply give money for them. People have already started to gossip and this might as well turn into a scandal…"

"Nobody would dare," the minister interrupted him sharply.

"But they already do and it will get even worse. And you do not endanger just your soul, but your reputation as well and this of the city. For goodness sake, Frollo just let the girl go."

"No," the minister said with loud voice, as he advanced violently to the priest. Frollo looked at him viciously and after a pause he said with surprisingly calm, but cold voice: "That is none of your business and I would advise you not to make it yours. A slander to an official is punishable with death and I would remind this to everyone that dares to question me." He looked authoritatively to the archdeacon and added: "You will not make an exception." Then the judge turned and headed to the exit of the cathedral, leaving the wordless archdeacon behind.

As Frollo reached his carriage, a voice from there snapped him out of his thoughts:

"Would you like me to head on your home now, sir?"

"Not just yet," the minister said, as he then added mostly to himself, "unfortunately my money shall be spent at one more place…"

-∞-

It was not started to get dark yet, as Esmeralda was staring through the window. The entire day she had spent in the bed, covered up to the head, crying and watching blindly the surrounded her room. Her head was hurting from all the screaming and painful thoughts that had been passing and mixing in her mind. She did not cry anymore, she did not think much, too. She had tired herself of all the tortures that her mind was causing her, and now she was just laying passively. She could not fall asleep, no matter of how much she needed it, and she was giving in random empty thoughts.

The gypsy startled as she heard the unlocking of the door, but she did not turn or make any sign of noticing it. Somewhere in the distance she heard the rigid steps of the approaching her minister. Frollo stood authoritatively in front of her, furiously throwing on one side the package that he was holding, and putting aside his hat with the other hand. He stared for a moment to her apathetical reaction, and then stated angrily:

"The servant told me that you had refused to get up, to dress the clothes that she had given you, or to leave her clean the room," he paused. "She had also told me that you have spilled the meal that she had specially brought for you, giving her more work to do. Do you want to starve yourself to DEATH," the judge shouted, making the girl close her eyes in alarm. "IS THAT YOUR PLAN?"

Esmeralda did not reply. Frollo stared at her for a moment, and then lost in rage; he grabbed her roughly by the hair and pulled her from the bed. The dragged gypsy whimpered in pain, as she tried to get on her feet. The minister turned her to face the bed, as he clutched his fingers into her shoulders, pressing himself closer to her back. Then, he captured her face with one of his hands and directed it to the bed sheets, still holding firmly her naked body.

"Were you planning to wallow forever in that mess," he sneered as he forced her to look over the red spots of blood over the bed sheet. The judge felt the warm tears of the girl over his hand, with which he was holding her face. He loosed his grip, as he traced down his cold fingers over her neck, breasts and stomach. Frollo pulled her even closer to him, as he felt with pleasure his arising member between his legs. Her skin was soft and warm, her hair was spilled all over her shoulders and she was shivering from cold in his hands. He breathed heavily, as he closed his eyes and sunk his face into her dark hair. Then, he hissed into her ear, making her to shudder even more:

"You know that it will be far less painful for you if you just be a good little gypsy, and do as I say."

He grabbed her hair, removing it from her face and shoulder, and traced passionately his lips over her neck. His throbbing member made him even more impatient, as he felt the lustful desires overwhelming him. He pushed the silently crying girl roughly in front of him, making her collapse on the bed. She was facing the bed, as she tried to turn, but then she felt the pressing her grip of the minister to the bed.

"Don't turn," he drawled coldly, as he opened his gown with the other hand. He harshly positioned himself between her legs, as he pressed her with his whole body. She started hopelessly to object, as she was moving her body in tries to escape his firm grip.

"Please… stop it…" she whimpered desperately between her cries.

"Yes, that's better, beg me," the judge sneered viciously as he slid his hand between their bodies and pulled out his yearning member, forcing it thirstily into her. "Damn it, witch, would you be always that hard!" he clenched through his teeth as he pushed harder into her. Esmeralda sobbed out of pain, but forced herself to stop, burying her face into the bed. She was suffering, and he was causing her incredible pain and shame, but she tried her best not to give him the pleasure of showing her misery…

Fortunately for the gypsy, it did not last for very long. Frollo moaned heavily, as the sperm spurted out of his penis into her. He roughly pushed into her, breathing heavily, as his fingers ran through her hair, removing it from her back and face. He drawled his hand over her wet cheek, as his eyes were going calmly all over her.

"Good," he breathed out viciously, "good girl." He pulled himself off her, as he fixed his pants, and closed his gown. Esmeralda rapidly grabbed the tossed aside blanket, and tried as quickly as she could to cover herself. The judge observed her contemptibly, as a grin spilled over his face. He took the package he had earlier thrown on the floor and as he ripped it off, he threw to Esmeralda a dress that was in it.

"You see, my dear, I can be very generous when I am pleased," he drawled coldly, as he watched the gypsy taking the dress in her hands. "I bought it for you, and if you do not desire to put it on, I will dress it on you," he threatened, as his expression turned into libidinous pleasure. Esmeralda slowly got off the bed, and started preparing the dress to put it on, showing that she would do what he wanted. The judge impudently watched her, as she was dressing, trying her best to cover herself with the blanket at the same time. When she finished, she dropped the cover and looked at him with hatred, lifting boldly her green, wet eyes. Frollo involuntary smiled, as his attention was consumed with the image before his eyes. The dress was simple, it was not too pretentious, but it definitely did not look as a cheap one. The gown itself was red, and it was tightly fitting the gypsy, emphasizing the forms of her body. It was fairly open, revealing her beautiful dark skin, and suggesting just enough part of her breasts. The sleeves were long and loose, covering entirely her arms. The surcoat was black, as on the back and aside was going all the way down, and in front was just joined by a few loosely tightened by the gypsy laces. Her dark hair was spilling all over her shoulders, as it was reflecting the last daylights.

"Very well," the judge started, trying to snap out of his enchanted stage and to regain his vicious expression, "you see how simple all is when you just do as you are told?" Esmeralda remained silent, but was still looking abhorrently straight at him. He grinned mockingly. "Now, follow me downstairs, where you can have something to eat before you have starved to death. I shall send someone finally to clean up that mess," the minister said coldly, as he grabbed her arm and started dragging her outside the room.

-∞-

It was already dark outside as the gypsy and the judge came back in the room. Frollo was pleased that despite of her arrogant look, she had obeyed his orders silently, so he had left her walk before him, without forcing her way. The room was lightened up with candles by the servants, who had cleaned it up, putting new bed sheets and covers. The judge did not moved his eyes from the girl, as he locked the door, and as he got closer to her, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her to the nearest wall. He observed for a moment the lights from the candles playfully spilling their shades of light all over her body, and then he passionately kissed her. His eyes stared at her passive ones, as he then libidinously slid them down to her chest. He grinned, as his cold hand traced her warm skin and then slid it between her breasts and the tightened around cloth of the given dress. His breathing increased, as he felt the yearning desire to have her again, and he roughly started pulling off the generous given gift from her body.


	6. Envy

Thanks for the comments and please continue reviewing. I intend to develop further the feelings of Frollo and Esmeralda towards each another, but that would happen more gradually (not that it won't have some sudden surprises;) , so for now just read and enjoy:)

* * *

Envy:

In the morning Frollo dressed up rigidly in silence. He had awakened late, which was not usual for him, so he was in a hurry to leave the room. He partly glanced the laying on the end of the bed gypsy, who was with her eyes open, but wasn't showing any signs of noticing him. She had huddled the cover around her naked body, as beneath it she had surrounded with her hands her bare breasts. Her eyes were blindly directed into the space. The judge headed to the door, as he got his hat in one of his hands, and searched for the key in his pocket with the other. His attention shifted to the floor near the exit, where the dress he had stripped off Esmeralda the previous night was lying. It was all messed up and it was torn in some places. He stared at it for a moment, than as he found the key in his pocket, he put on his hat, and took the dress in his free hand. The gypsy passively heard how he unlocked the door, got out, locked it and gradually his steps faded away behind it. She did not do anything, she remained sullen and apathetic, wandering if her sufferings would be less if she had just burned at the pyre.

It did not take long before the two servants of the judge had heard his approaching from upstairs and had dutifully line up downstairs, waiting for his orders with their heads respectfully bowed. As he noticed them, he threw hastily in the hands of the younger one the dress that he was carrying.

"Make sure to fix it and to give it back to her," he said authoritatively as he looked the two women. "And this time try to be more successful in making her eat something. I hardly desire to come back late and be obligated to clean up again the messes that you have left earlier in the day. I have too much work without taking care of yours as well, are we clear, Paulette," the judge said coldly as he turned to the older servant.

"Yes, sir," she replied, as she nodded her head in agreement.

"Let's hope it is," he murmured absent-mindedly. "Also, I have mentioned to you yesterday what you have to buy, so I expect it to be done by the time I return."

"Yes, sir," Paulette repeated, as she again made the gesture of conformity.

"Very well then," Frollo drawled, as he gave her the keys from the rooms upstairs. Then, he directed hastily to the door and left the house, meeting the captain of the guard outside, who had just came to report for the capturing of new trespassers at the river Seine. The minister closed his eyes for a second and breathed out in frustration- it was going to be another long day for him.

-∞-

It had not passed half an hour since the judge had left, and Esmeralda heard again the unlocking of the door. Paulette emerged first, followed by the younger servant, who was holding a tray in her hands. They looked quickly around the room, seeing the huddled in the bed gypsy, who did not show any signs of noticing them. The older woman started cleaning the room, putting in order the laying on the floor things. She made a quick gesture to the other servant, who put the tray on a small table near the bed, and started helping Paulette. Esmeralda remained apathetic. After a few minutes of silent cleaning, the older woman advanced to the younger one, slightly touching her by the arm, in order to get her attention.

"Come on, Corinne," she murmured, as she directed to the door. The other servant followed obediently. At the exit Paulette turned again to the gypsy: "We will come again after an hour to get the tray and to make up the bed, if you please to get up." The servant looked absently at her, "and I beg you, Miss, do not put me again in any trouble. I just want to do my work," she said rigidly and then left the room.

Esmeralda heard and attended everything, but her thoughts were somewhat wandering randomly in her mind. She blinked several times to regain some attention, and glanced towards the table with the tray. Her stomach was hurting. She lifted herself a little bit, as she wrapped firmly the cover around her body and slowly moved towards the end of the bed. She sat at the edge of it, still fixed her eyes somewhat blindly towards the little table. She paused. She seemed she had sunken in thoughts, but the pain in her stomach snapped her out of her trance and she looked the tray paying more attention at it. There were eggs, sausages and croissants. She stood up and reached to one of the croissants, eating it somewhat absent mindedly. Her eyes slowly lifted from the floor and she noticed a large mirror hanged on the front to her wall. She stared at it, as her eyes started frantically to move all over her appearance. She saw her naked shoulders and arms, which had bruises all over them from the firm clutches of the minister; her pale, but in the same time red from the tears tortured face; and her black hairs, falling in disorder. Esmeralda stared at her huddled in the cover weak body and at her gripping hand, which was holding the cloth so not to fall down. Her eyes were hollow and terrific. She closed them, forcing to remove this pathetic image of herself from her consciousness. She threw the remained croissant in her hand angrily towards the mirror and kicked the table, making all the food from the tray spill on the floor. She stared at the mess frantically, as tears filled up her eyes, blearing her look. The gypsy ran her fingers through her hair, nervously grabbing and pulling it down. Her sobs increased, as her whimpers were transforming into frantic laughter. She collapsed near the bed, taking her legs in her arms and burying her face in her knees. Esmeralda wept bitterly as gradually her sobs decreased and she again sank in her painful and miserable thoughts. She did not know how much time had passed, but suddenly she heard someone knock on the door and not long after that the key sounded in the locker. She lifted her head, as she saw the younger servant coming in.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Miss, I just need to take the…" she looked at the mess on the floor "…care of that," she finished bluntly as she saw the collapsed on the floor gypsy and her red from the tears eyes, which were now looking straight at her. The servant immediately looked down again and as she kneeled she started to clean up, putting the spilled food back on the tray. Esmeralda watched her blindly:

"I am sorry," she said silently. The servant looked at her with surprise for a second, then as if she had realized herself; her head faced the floor again:

"You do not have to," the girl murmured somewhat ashamed. Esmeralda did not say anything more, but she watched her peacefully while she was cleaning. The gypsy did not know why, but that was bringing her some distraction from her misery and that was all she needed right now. The servant finished quickly and stood up, holding the tray in one hand and getting the key in the other. She turned towards Esmeralda, but her head was still pointing down.

"I am sorry that is taking so long, but soon I will come back again with the dress, so you can put it on," she murmured and started to leave.

Esmeralda stilled. The mentioning of that thing had returned all the memories from the previous night and she again sunk miserably in the terrifying thoughts…

The servant did not lie. It had not passed more than half an hour and she was back. However, the gypsy did not felt the passing time; she thought that she had lost any idea of it. Sometimes it seemed for her like everything was going very, very slowly, and she was trapped in all those horrible images that were torturing her, as what it seemed forever to her. But when the servant came in, for Esmeralda it appeared that she had just left, as the gypsy had completely lost any track of time, and the moments were just blending into blurry memories, which looked more like a dream than real things.

"Excuse me, Miss, if I have made you to wait more than anticipated," the servant said with her head bowed down, as she advanced to the gypsy, who was still huddled on the floor. Esmeralda looked at her. She was carefully holding in one of her arms the red dress that Frollo had given her the previous night, and after that had ripped off her. Now the dress was looking just fine. "It took some time for Madame Paulette to fix it, but now it is as new," the servant added carelessly, as she delicately put the dress on the one edge of the disordered bed near the collapsed on the floor gypsy. Esmeralda watched her wordlessly. The young woman directed her eyes again to the floor and murmured kindly: "If you would like, I can help you dress it, and after that I can made up the bed." Her eyes stopped on the cover that the gypsy was still holding firmly around her.

"I will not wear it," she drawled, but in her voice it could be sensed some discuss. The servant looked incomprehensibly towards her:

"But if I may ask, why not, Miss? The dress looked so good on you, yesterday at dinner, why do you not desire it today. Do you not like it anymore?"

Esmeralda on her turn looked her as if she was looking a moron:

"It's a dress. I don't care about it," she said drily.

"But then, why do you not just put it on, so you would not be covered only with this bed blanket," the servant asked a little bit more kindly, realizing her brusqueness and trying now to be at least sensible. She looked at the gypsy somewhat sympathetically, making her feel some compassion for the first time for days.

"What is the point," Esmeralda started, leaving her irritation, and sinking into self pithy again. "He will again just rip it off me, the sick bastard," she sighed, as she looked down. The servant as well directed her eyes to her feet, as she mumbled embarrassed:

"I am sure that I am not supposed to discuss such things about the minister."

Esmeralda looked at her with revulsion.

"I guess you are not supposed to," she said ironically. She paused, observing the numb reaction of the servant. "For crying out loud, are everybody in this town afraid of him," she asked disgusted.

"Not afraid, Miss," the young woman corrected her, "but respecting him," she murmured a little more confident. Esmeralda snorted objectively, but did not say anything more. The argument was pointless. It was clear that she could not get any sympathy from the judge's servants. The servant stood for some moments, with her head bowed down, as if she did not desire the conversation to finish. She looked again towards the dress and after that towards Esmeralda.

"If you do not desire to dress it, I do not have anything more that I can do here, so I would be on my way out. But I advise you, Miss, that the minister would not be pleased neither with you nor with me for I have not succeeded to do my chores," the young woman turned and started to leave.

"Wait," the gypsy dropped suddenly. The servant's respect towards the judge was greatly irritating her, but Esmeralda did not desire to be alone again. The talking with the girl have made her at least for some time to forget her dreadful memories, and that was all she needed right now.

"Yes, Miss" the servant asked as she turned again towards the gypsy.

"So you would be in trouble if I don't wear the dress," Esmeralda asked unbelievingly.

"That is correct, Miss."

"Because you have not done your chores for the day?"

"Yes, Miss," the servant confirmed, advancing back to the huddled on the floor girl. She started hoping that she could finally persuade her to dress up the dress. They both paused.

"Am I your chore for the day," the gypsy asked after a while with repulsion. The servant looked embarrassed to the floor.

"Of course not, Miss. I beg you; do not take it that way."

"And which way I am supposed to take it? What do you take me for? Am I here some puppet of your so precious "minister," for which he has given instructions what to do whit while he is gone, so to be in good condition when he returns to fuck it?!"

The servant put even downer her head, as the gypsy saw her red cheeks contrasting with her pale skin:

"Miss, I beg you…"

She could not finish her sentence, because at that time Esmeralda loudly burst into tears. She knew that the servant had not said anything so wrong that to deserve that kind of attitude, but she desperately needed to take it out. Her sobs and cries increased.

"But, Miss… I am sorry if I had offended you… I did not desire it…" the servant stuttered. Esmeralda did not seem to listen. She had sunk her head into her knees, and was sporadically crying. The young woman hesitantly approached her. The gypsy did not seem to notice it. The servant stared at it, not really sure what to do. She kneeled next to the crying girl, and uncertainly reached her hand towards the gypsy's black hair, which was randomly falling in all directions. She cautiously touched her, desiring to comfort her, but Esmeralda frantically shuddered, moving herself closer to the bed side.

"Don't touch me," she yelled. The servant startled, and took her hand back immediately.

"Please, Miss calm down. I assure you, I did not wish you any harm. Just, I beg you; breathe and you will see how much better you would feel," the young woman said tenderly. Suddenly Esmeralda stopped and looked at the servant, as if the gypsy had realized something.

"I am sorry," she muttered numbly, "I must have scared you… I did not…," the gypsy started struggling with her words, "look I am not usually like…"

"You do not owe me explanation, Miss. I am just glad that you are feeling better now, are you not?"

Esmeralda did not answer. She was blindly watching at her knees. Suddenly she turned to the hanged on the wall opposite to them mirror.

"Oh, I look awful," the gypsy drawled as she slid her fingers along her wet cheek. "I really do…"

"But, Miss, do not talk such things. You look beautiful…" the servant was again interrupted by the gypsy:

"You are right. I must put on some clothes. I am pathetic like this."

The servant felt relieved.

"I would prepare immediately the dress for you…"

"No, not this thing," the gypsy sharply interrupted, shaking her head. "Don't you have something else? The dress that the other woman gave me yesterday…"

"The green one, that Madame Paulette offered you?"

"Yes, is it to someone?"

"Oh, I could bring you that one, if you desire it. It is mine, but I would be glad to give it to you. However, I am not quite sure if the min…" the servant suddenly stopped, realizing what she was saying. She did not wanted to mention the minister, as not to make the gypsy cry again. She put her head down ashamed.

"I don't care what the pervert would say," Esmeralda said coldly. The servant moved her head in objection, but did not say anything. They paused, and after some seconds the young woman broke the silence.

"But, look at the time. It is almost noon. I should better go and bring your some lunch, Miss. You must be starving about now," she stood up and started to leave.

"I envy you," the gypsy said misfortunate as she stared at the door. The servant stopped.

"Excuse me, Miss," she asked confused.

"You can go beyond that door and I can't. I envy you for that." The servant looked at the gypsy somewhat sympathetically, but did not say anything. She turned again to the exit.

"I would be back soon, Miss. And I shall bring with me the green dress," she added as she took the key from her pocket and left, leaving the gypsy once more alone.

-∞-

Esmeralda was looking blindly towards the window. She could almost feel the warm sun out there on her skin. She wondered how something that she took for granted everyday could miss so much. Her eyes were shifting constantly impatiently towards the door. What was taking so long to the servant to come back? The gypsy desperately needed someone to be with her right now. Indeed, the young woman was one of Frollo's minions, and the gypsy hated the way she was talking about him, but she did not want to return back in her horrified thoughts even for another minute. It had not passed five days since she was here, but she already thought that she was going crazy. She needed some- any kind of human interaction that would keep her from insanity- and right now her only hope was the servant.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her trance and she looked as the servant slowly opened the door, carefully holding in one arm a tray with food and in the other a green dress and the key. She was definitely overloaded with things, but she managed it somewhat gracefully.

"I am sorry, Miss, if it had taken too long," she said, with her usual head down, as she put the tray on the small table in front of the bed.

"Don't call me that," the gypsy said absent-mindedly.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

"Don't… that. Don't call me "Miss". It sounds like I am… like him."

"I am not sure if I understand you…"

"Esmeralda… My name is Esmeralda. Call me that. Give your respects to your superiors, but I am not one of them."

"As you wish, Esmeralda," the servant said somewhat awkward.

"And what is your name," the gypsy asked not remembering hearing anyone to mention the servant's name.

"Corinne, I am called Corinne." They both silenced for a moment, in which Esmeralda seemed as if she was drifting in some thoughts. "If you allow me, I can make up the bed while you are dressing. In that way you would feel more comfortable while eating your lunch," the servant suggested, wanting to attract again the gypsy's attention.

"Yes, sure," Esmeralda drawled absent-mindedly as she stood up and took the green dress that the servant was giving her.

Corinne made up the bed in silence, and then turned to the gypsy, who was still fixing the dress on her. Esmeralda looked herself in the mirror. The dress was simple and mostly modest. It was not as open as the other one, but it was not completely closed either. Its sleeves were going tightly a little bit below her elbows and had white decorations at the end. The dress was closely going to her body, emphasizing on her beautiful forms. The gypsy moved her hair away from her shoulders, as she was still looking herself in the mirror.

"If I may remark, Esmeralda, you look lovely in the dress," the servant said as she stepped away from the already made up bed. Esmeralda did not reply, she seemed she did not notice her. Corinne headed to the door, ready to leave.

"Where are you going," the gypsy suddenly said, as she turned towards the servant.

"Oh, please forgive my thoughtless behavior, I forget to ask you if you need me for anything else," Corinne said as she bowed her head down.

"No, I don't… I mean I don't want you to leave, please. I am lonely. Please stay and make me company while I am eating, will it be alright," Esmeralda asked desperately not wanting to be only by herself again. Corinne nodded in agreement and the gypsy took the tray, as she placed it on the carpet and sat near it. The servant kneeled next to her, and took one apple as the gypsy made her gesture to help herself out.

"So, why are you today coming alone- usually there is another woman that comes with you," Esmeralda asked after a pause, wanting to engage in some random conversation.

"Are you talking about Madame Paulette," the gypsy nodded. "She is pretty busy today. She sewed your dress… the red one and I think now she is outside. The minister sent her to get you some more clothes…" the servant silenced. She was not sure if it was a good idea to mention him again in front of her.

"I don't need more clothes," Esmeralda said sharply, but then she silenced as well. "So why is the other woman…Madame Paulette… what she has against gypsies," she asked after a pause wanting to remove the thought of the minister's gifts from her mind.

"I am not sure if I understand what you mean by that," Corinne said confused.

"I don't know… She doesn't say mean things to me, but the way she looks at me sometimes, is the same one as the citizens look at my people… with disgust and fear I guess… I have seen you sometimes look at me the same way." The servant's eyes directed to the floor ashamed. "I didn't… I don't mean to offend you, just…"

"I am not offended, Miss… Esmeralda. I am sorry if I have made you feel uncomfortable in any way… I can assure you that neither Madame Paulette nor I judge you by your origin," Corinne murmured somewhat mechanically. "But you have to understand, Esmeralda, Madame Paulette is very religious woman, she believes in the sanctity of marriage. If she looks you sometimes unpleasantly that is because she does not approve what you are doing with the minis…" the servant blushed as she interrupted her sentence and bent her head even downer. Esmeralda exhaled loudly, as a miserable laughter rang through the silenced room.

"She is not the only one that does not approve," she said and stopped as tears filled up her eyes. Corinne looked up at her unknowing what to say, she just stared at her, as the servant seemed consumed in some inner dilemma.

"I do not have any right to ask, and it is surely not my business," Corinne finally started, "but if I do not offend you with my question, can I ask why you have agreed to stay here, if it is obviously not your will?"

"I don't want people to be hurt anymore. Frollo had threatened and killed a lot of people to find me, but when I was to be burned alive I got scared. I was scared about the pain, about the friends that I leave in danger, and about not seeing my love again… Nevertheless, I am here so my people not to be in prison."

"And you have given yourself to a man who you do not love," the servant asked a little bit more freely and curious, forgetting any appropriate boundaries that she was thought at. Esmeralda smiled unfortunately.

"It was not much of a choice, really," the gypsy said sadly. They both paused, but the curiosity got the better of Corinne and she dared to ask again:

"Forgive me for asking, but I do not understand- your people, the gypsies, they do not follow our customs, the women there are usually… well women of easy virtue… but when I changed the sheets from the bed yesterday I found some blood over the old ones… Were you…"

"Yes, I was a virgin, but not anymore," tears spilled over Esmeralda's cheeks as she made another miserable smile. The servant bent her head again and silence filled up the room. Corinne broke it again after some time had passed:

"Why do you think the minister is so obsessed with you?"

Esmeralda shook her head:

"I don't know," she whispered as she sank in some thoughts. "But what I know is that I don't desire it," she said after a pause. "I envy you- it must feel good to be free and make your own choices in life," Esmeralda said misfortunately towards the servant. Corinne's eyes directed to the floor again and she did not say anything. This time the gypsy interrupted the awkward silence: "Why do you think that the gypsies are of easy virtue" Esmeralda started wanting to change the subject. "Did Frollo tell you that?"

"No," the servant energetically shook her head.

"Then what do you have against them," the gypsy asked with equal tone, not wanting to seem as she is attacking the servant. Corinne did not reply. "Please, tell me. I just want not to think about what is happening right now with me. What could possibly have happened to you, so to respect so much Frollo and to hate an entire race, just because it is not like you?"

"It is not like that, Esmeralda…" the servant started out hesitantly. "I do not hate anyone, or any nation, I am sorry if I had sounded that way," Corinne stopped, debating over something, but after a moment continued, "But there is something," she looked at her and started:

"It happened before four years. I was sixteen then and I was living with my two parents and my two younger brothers. We were very poor, my father was constantly ill and he was incapable to provide for us. My mother worked all days as a sewer, but that did not provided much either. I was my parents' only hope for survival, because my brothers were too young. I was cleaning several houses at that time, but the payment was poor and the job unsure. The only hope that my parents had was to marry me with someone from the upper class and I was glad to do so and to help them. And if a Christian woman wants to marry a proper man, she needed to stay pure for him. I was virtuous and I was trying to avoid the company of men until the day my marriage happens. Nevertheless, one cold night, it was January; I was working late in one distant from where I live house. It was already dark when I headed home, and I was exhausted from the long work, so it seemed a good idea by that time to go through the small streets of the city with the purpose to shorten my way home. I realized how bad idea that was in the middle of the way and it was already too late to head to another direction. The night was dark and cold, and my way did not cross with many people. Everything was closed, except the taverns that were full with feasting men and loose women. I walked fast when I was passing them, but that did not help me," the servant paused and looked down. Esmeralda was silent; she was just staring intensely at Corinne. The young woman continued:

"I heard them from distance, but I could not avoid them. Before I notice they were in front of me. There were three of them. They looked very strange- one of them had bandage on his eyes, but he seemed he was seeing just fine, another had crutches, but he did not have problems with his legs. They were…," Corinne stopped and glanced towards Esmeralda and then directed her eyes to the floor.

"Gypsies," the other girl finished mumbling.

"Yes, they were," the servant confirmed with her head still down. She paused for a moment, and then continued: "I tried to avoid them, but it all happened too fast… Two of them grabbed me by the shoulders and they pressed me to the nearest wall. They were all laughing and talking in some unknown to me language. The other got in front of me and they all…," Corinne stopped, struggling with the memory. Her voice was weak and full of pain, "… they all started ripping my dress. The man in front of me pressed me with his body, and I could feel…," the servant's eyes looked down and a tear slipped over her cheek, "He got inside me, he…"

"He raped you," Esmeralda finished with quite, but horrified voice. Corinne's tears were spilling freely all over her face, but she continued trembling:

"When he was finished with me he moved away. The entire time I was trying to fight back, but the other two were holding me firmly, their hands were all over me, I could not even scream- they were pressing my mouth, so not to do that. Then, they changed places… and another one stayed before me… I can still remember his rough beard traveling all over my chest… and then he whispered with broken accent in my ear. He said that he would tell them to release the hold from my mouth, but if I had screamed they would had kill me. I nodded and after a moment I felt how the grabbing hand released my face. I did not dare to move, but then I felt the hands of the man aside pushing my shoulders down, so they made me kneel. The man in front of me, he… took my chin and pulled his pants off… I was horrified, I frantically moved my head backwards and cried with all the strength that I had," the servant's head was bent and Esmeralda was now hearing her weak voice continuing: "I felt incredible pain over my face, as he slapped me with great rage. I was begging them to stop, but they did not listen. They pinned me to the street stones and the man with the beard pressed me with his body. I screamed for a second time, but my cry was interrupted by one of the men's hand, which clutched me by the face… I thought that that was the end… that I would die in that street ravished and humiliated. I remember that I thought that the death would be the most preferable escape of all this… I was already desecrated, I was impure, I could not do my duty to my parents and marry a man in the upper classes- nobody who was in that level would have a ravished woman for a wife… I was losing my senses, my entire body was screaming out of pain, but I was numb. It all seemed happening in some distance, in some nightmare, none of it made sense anymore. I was fading, slipping in the cold, eternal sleep. And then I felt how the man's body, which was causing me this unending humiliation, dropped lifelessly over me. In a moment I felt how the pressure from the others disappeared and I tried to regain consciousness. Everything was blurry… distant... I heard the ringing of armors, and men were shouting over one another. I overheard some of them whispering: "The poor girl," and "Look at her- humiliated, desecrated. She'd be better death."

"Hold your tongue, soldier," I heard then a low, authoritative voice saying. "This child is just a victim to those vermin. It is not her fault for the base actions of these gypsies." Two men had taken away the death body of the men, who was over me, but I still could not move- I was weak and half unconscious. I looked aside, where the soldiers had arrested the two men and were taking them away. I heard someone not far from me saying: "Sir, what about the girl," and then my attention directed to that voice. I saw a soldier near a tall man in black clothes, who was cleaning the blood from his dagger. It was minister Frollo. He ordered something to the soldier, but I did not hear it. Then he advanced towards me, as two other soldiers covered me with a blanket, and tried to lift me up. I was too weak, I had strength just to sit, and even then one of them was holding me not to fall down again. The minister said something to me, but everything was still blurry. I do not recall his words, but his voice however imposing, was somewhat comforting. I felt safe. That night he ordered two soldiers to accompany me home. I was entirely bruised, had blood all over me and the blanket that the soldiers gave me was the only thing that was covering my bare body. My father and my mother wept bitterly when they saw me, and it took some days before I could stand again on my feet. Two days after the incident mother told me that they had executed the men that had done me his on the Place de Grève. I felt relieved- violence is not Christian, but I did not care then- I was destroyed by them and all I could think of was that their deaths are deserved," the servant lifted her eyes towards Esmeralda: "I do not think that now. Every life is precious and it is not us to decide who will live and die… I have long ago forgiven them and I am at peace, but someone could not... It was passed more than a week from that night, and I was capable to walk and do some chores then, but I was still weak and not fitted for heavy work. It was then, when one afternoon minister Frollo came at my parents' house. He said that the soldiers had shown him where I live and that he wanted to make sure that I was managing well after that dreadful night. He said that he had not come earlier, because he had not wished to disturb my rest. His visit was formal and he act distantly, but I could tell that he was regretting that he had let such thing happen to one of the citizens of Paris. I think he is still feeling guilt that he had not stopped the men earlier… Anyhow, that day he offered me to work for him when I recover completely, and that is how I became one of his maids. I was capable to provide for my family, and I felt valuable again. I would never forget the horrible night that happened to me, but I survived it and now it is just past… You see, Esmeralda, sometime God puts us through incredible pain just to show us His love after that- one of the soldiers that helped me that night is my present husband. We are married from two years now and despite that he is not a man great fortune, he says that he loves me and that is more than I could have ever wished for."

"I am sorry," Esmeralda said after a pause still looking straight at her. "I did not know that you have been through such pain."

"It does not matter now," Corinne replied.

"Not all gypsies are like this. Those were cruel men- do not judge all of us because of them. There is a lot of suffering among my people as well, and they are also innocent victims."

"I know that," the servant replied, as she looked the floor again. "Esmeralda, you should know that I am not a fool. I know that the minister is treating many human beings unkindly and unjustly. I know that he causes you much pain, too, and if someone could understand what are you going through that would be me." Corinne looked at Esmeralda, "but you should also know that even if he is a villain for you, for me, in that cold January night, when I was preferring death rather than life, he was my savior."

At that moment the door opened and Paulette entered.

"But, Corinne, what are you doing here? It is almost dark and you have not finished your work, yet," the older woman said scolding.

"My apologies, Madame," Corinne said as she stood up from the floor where she was sitting with Esmeralda and started to gather the dishes back in the tray. "Let me take care of this and I would return to my chores."

Paulette walked through the room and as she reached the gypsy and placed a package that she was carrying near Esmeralda.

"Miss, the minster required to get you a night gown and pair of shoes," she stated automatically as she looked disapprovingly to the dress that Esmeralda was wearing, but did not say anything. "I would advise you not to oppose him and to accept these things." She turned again towards Corinne: "Have you brought her dinner?"

"No, I don't want to," Esmeralda interrupted sharply. "I mean, I am still full from the lunch."

"As you wish, miss," Paulette said somewhat sarcastically. "I would wait you downstairs to come with the tray," she said to Corinne and left the room. Esmeralda and the servant silenced for a moment.

"I am sorry if I had kept you from your work," the gypsy said dully.

"You should not worry yourself over such trivial matters," Corinne said as she lifted the full with dishes tray, "but I really must go now." She headed to the door.

"Does it always hurt," Esmeralda dropped suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't have to say it out loudly, do I?"

"No, you do not," the servant muttered, as she directed her eyes automatically to the floor. She paused. "Try not to resist it so much, it will be less painful for you…" she turned and got the key in one of her hands, as she added, "physically," and left the room. Esmeralda heard how she locked the door from outside.

"I am still envying you," the gypsy muttered bitterly after her with fixed towards the exit eyes.

* * *

I thought that it might be fun to tell a little bit about the names in the story…

So we all know that **Quasimodo** means "HALF FORMED" or "THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY" in Latin (the Sunday following Easter is sometimes called "Quasimodo Sunday") and that **Phoebus** is epithet of the Greek god Apollo or the SUN GOD, which also is Latinized form of the Greek name _Φοιβος (Phoibos). _

**Claude **(the first name of Frollo) is from a Roman family name which was derived from Latin _claudus_ meaning "LAME, CRIPPLED". **Frollo** does not really mean anything, but there is a story behind that which has adopted the meaning of "Killed by Arthur."

**Esmeralda** means "EMERALD" in Spanish- in the book she has gotten her name because she wears around her neck a small bag, which was covered with green silk and had in the center a large boss of green glass, in imitation of an emerald. However, in the book the gypsy turns out to be French, who was taken as little from her mother, and Esmeralda's real name is **Agnes**, which is Latinized form of the Greek name _'Αγνη (Hagne)_, derived from Greek _'αγνος (hagnos)_ meaning "CHASTE" and also was used in Latin as "LAMB."

The names of the servants that I chose are Paulette and Corinne. **Paulette** is root from Paul, which comes from the Roman family name _Paulus_, which meant "small" or "HUMBLE" in Latin. **Corinne **originates from Corinna, which is Latinized form of the Greek name _Κοριννα (Korinna)_, which was derived from _κορη (kore)_ "MAIDEN".


	7. Lie

Lie:

That night Frollo arrived late at the house, where everything was dark. As he opened his room, he saw the gypsy sitting on the floor near the bed. She did not move. The judge approached and stopped a few steps from her, staring at her intensely.

"Did the servant not bring you a night dress," he asked coldly, already knowing the answer.

"She did," Esmeralda replied quietly.

"Then I suggest you put it on, unless you desire to sleep naked," the minister drawled spitefully after a pause.

The gypsy slowly reached to the package that she had not touched since Paulette had given it and she torn it a little bit, pulling a white night robe from it. She stood up uncertainly, as her eyes were trying to avoid the persisting stare of the judge. Esmeralda walked to the opposite corner next to the windows, trying to get as much far from the minister as she could, and slowly dressed the gown in the shadows, as first she put it on and then removed the dress beneath it. Frollo was standing still during all this, and even though Esmeralda could not clearly see his expression she could feel his fixed on her eyes. She stood up numbly, supporting her back on the wall behind. Frollo approached her, and she felt shivers running all over her. He stood up right in front of her, intimidating her with his closeness. She felt him inhaling heavily as his hand reached and slowly ran through her hair. He lightly grabbed the end of a lock of her hair, playing with it with his fingers. He was so close to her that the gypsy could feel his breaths over her. His hand slid to her shoulder and he gradually pulled her away from the wall, taking her to the window as now the moonlight was spilling all over her face. He lifted her chin and stared at her green eyes. They were red and hollowed, and her entire tired expression was giving away her recent restless nights. He smiled somewhat satisfied and Esmeralda closed her eyes in repulsion as he bent towards her and deeply slid his tongue in her mouth.

When he broke up the kiss, the judge parted a few steps away from her, and still daringly staring at her drawled:

"Get in the bed."

Esmeralda did not move, she seemed she was dwelling what to do. He got again close to her, and as he roughly pulled her head aside he hissed in her ear:

"I do not like to repeat myself."

The judge stilled, allowing her repulsively pulling herself away from him. The gypsy stared at him daringly with her exhausted eyes, and without turning she slowly made a few steps backwards towards the bed. Then still looking at him, she removed a little bit the covers, as she lied at the end of the bed. Frollo smiled mockingly, as he moved away from the windows in the dark room, where Esmeralda could not see him. He went to the opposite side of the room, where he put off his hat and gown, and as he picked up one of his night gowns from his closet, he put it on. After he changed, Esmeralda heard him as he approached back to the bed and removed the cover from the other side of it. He laid comfortably on it, as he put the cover back both on him and Esmeralda.

"Try to rest this night," he drawled coldly and fell asleep.

Not long after that the gypsy's struggles to stay awake gradually failed, as she sank into the so needed sleep.

Frollo woke up earlier than usual. As he opened his eyes he realized that the dawn had not come just yet. He stilled in the bed, as he let his mind wander over all the memories from yesterday's events. He needed to do something about all those riots that were happening recently- each day there was at least two or three preventing of gypsies' tries to return back in the city, and most of them were ending violently for both sides. He knew that if it was continuing going that way, the soldiers would be eventually defeated. He sighed- since he had found the Palace of Miracles and had destroyed it, putting every day guards on its enters so not to be inhabited again, after all this it seemed as if the gypsies had invaded more than ever the streets of his city. That thought stick in his mind for a while. He snapped out of it, turning his head to the gypsy next to him. He smirked pleased, as he saw her asleep. She was lying on her back, as the judge's eyes were now going all over her. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful, so vulnerable… As that thought crossed his mind, he immediately felt the need to possess her. He did not move, but he was staring at her intensely- she had caused him so much trouble… because of her he did not killed the gypsies, but instead he let them free, and now this mercy was paying him off as expected… The gypsies were not his only problem- she was as well. Frollo indeed had not forgotten the consequences that his soul would suffer, because of what he was doing now, and all was her fault. She had pushed him to sin, to yearn the flames of the hellfire, and he was not ready to let it go just yet… He reached his hand towards the gypsy and lightly ran his fingers through her hair. Her face was directed towards the windows, and now her skin was lighted by the first rays of the sun. He took his hand back as she slightly moved and after a moment she opened her eyes. He observed her as she looked at the red from the dawn sky and after a second, in which she retained her memories from the previous day, she suddenly turned her head to the other side. Shivers ran through Esmeralda's body as she saw the judge awake, staring at her. She did not say anything and did not move any further. For a moment the room was stilled in intense silence. Frollo smirked as he again reached towards the gypsy's hair, and Esmeralda turned repulsively. His hand rushed instead to her chin and he sharply pulled her head back to him.

"Be stilled," he clenched through his teeth coldly. He stared at her viciously for a moment, and then his eyes started to slide down to her body. His hand roughly traveled along her neck and as he grabbed her night robe, he lifted himself a little bit towards her and hastily started to unbutton it.

"What?- you got already tired of ripping everything off me," Esmeralda muttered spitefully, as her green eyes were repulsively piercing at him. His eyes irritably directed to her face and in a second he grabbed her roughly by the neck, pressing it firmly to the bed. His face closed to hers, as he drawled with content rage:

"I shall warn you just ones- do not dare to open this pretty mouth of yours again." For a moment he stared at her provokingly, then his eyes directed again to her breasts, and he passionately slid his hand between the unbuttoned dress and her skin. Frollo smirked as he again looked at her mockingly. His hand thirstily rubbed one of her breasts, abusing it with pleasure. Esmeralda felt near her thigh his hardening member and she closed her eyes with horror. She put a great effort in forcing her tears not to spill over her face again- she knew that that would just make the minister more satisfied. The gypsy felt how the judge grabbed one of her legs and put it aside from the other, harshly placing himself over her. As she opened her eyes, she realized that Frollo had pulled down one of the sides of her robe, revealing her shoulder and the breast that just a moment ago he was playing with. The minister head was directed down, to her stomach and he gradually started dragging it upper to her body, now reaching the exposed on her chest flesh. His mouth lightly opened, as he started making sluggish kisses along her skin. She inhaled heavily in disgust, turning her head aside, as she felt his teeth and tongue going all over her skin. Frollo progressed further, as now his lips were passionately circling around her nipple. Her entire breast was moistened by the libidinous movements of his tongue across her bare chest. His throbbing member ached for going inside of her. He dragged his downer lip along her skin, as he gradually lifted his head, now staring at her face. The judge's hands progressed to her thighs, as now they were slowly gathering the white cloth from her robe, revealing more and more the flesh of her legs. He was still watching her face, which was turned aside. Esmeralda closed her eyes in horror, as she felt that the supposed skirt had reached her waist. Frollo pressed himself harder to her, and now the only thing that separated him from being inside of her was his night gown. He pulled it up. The gypsy's heartbeat increased, knowing that only after a moment she would feel again the humiliation, the pain… He roughly turned her face towards him, observing intensely her expression. She felt his hand clutching in her harder, so to prevent her from struggling, but she did not think that she was capable of doing even that.

"_Try not to resist it so much, it will be less painful for you… physically_," the words of the servant rang in her ears, as she numbly relaxed her body, and gave in…

Frollo pushed harsh and deep in her, remembering her previous stiffness, but that time she was not. He heavily exhaled with pleasure, feeling her warmth inside, as he realized his easy entrance. He looked surprised at her- her eyes were fixed somewhere down aside, as the only thing that could be seen was the sparkling wet around them. Frollo stared stilled for a second, and then he made another thirsting push inside of her, panting with content, as he gradually started slow, deep and pleasurable movements. His skin was sliding over the soft one of the gypsy; his eyes were locked on her face; he could feel her delicate forms beneath him, and this time she had finally given in. With every motion the judge loosened more and more his tight grip over the girl, letting his hands freely explore all over her body. She did not move, but she was warm, every part of her… He pushed harder inside of her numb body, yearning more of the experienced dominance. Her warmth was the only thing that reminded the minister that she was still not a corpse. She was so lightened, so obedient, so broken… He knew that she was screaming from inside, but her outside was his- he had won and now her submissiveness was for him, for his ecstasy and delight. He pushed and pushed, overlapping his motions and his moans, feeling warmer and warmer by the frictions of their skins. He broke his stare from her, looking blindly the wall in front of him, and biting his lips with pleasure. His breaths were quick and unequal. He continued faster and faster, feeling only the gratification that his mingling inside of her member was giving him, the same pleasure that was spreading all over his body, getting more and more, longer and longer… Esmeralda had closed tightly her eyes, gritting her teeth with disgust and pain. She wanted to disappear, to die, and just to be finished with all that humiliation… She was feeling him all over her- on her skin, around her legs, inside…

The minister groaned heavily, as he had reached his final moments of pleasure, and Esmeralda felt the warm liquid spreading inside of her. She opened her eyes, still directed her head to the window. The judge was still over her, as he was gasping heavily for air, his head now sunk in her hair. Suddenly, he lifted himself, staring intensely at her turned aside face, as his hand traveled hastily across her chest, and through her neck, reaching and grabbing roughly her chin. He turned her head abruptly, as her eyes pierced at his with disgust. He glared at them, completely enchanted by their green blaze, than he bend and harshly slid his tongue inside of her, kissing her deeply and painfully. When he broke the kiss, he looked at her for another pause, and then as he pushed aside the cover, he rolled off her, stepping on the floor.

While he was dressing up Esmeralda did not say or do anything. She had just covered herself back with the blanket, and her eyes were numbly raring at the space. It was only when he was completely dressed up, and was preparing to leave, she turned towards him.

"Am I a prisoner," she broke out with unfortunate, but strong voice. Frollo looked at her, lifting his eyebrow with surprise, as he examined her face. Then, he smirked libidinously, as he drawled carelessly:

"Call yourself as you please." Another pause followed, as the minister had turned and headed to the door, searching for his keys in his pocket.

"I don't want to be locked in here," the girl snapped out suddenly.

"Excuse me," the minister said coldly as he turned again towards her.

"If I am not a prisoner, I should be able to go in more than one room, shouldn't I?"

Frollo stared at her for a moment, as if trying to figure out what was on her mind. A mocking smile slid on his face, as he drawled coldly:

"Very well then, I guess you have proved to me this morning that you can be compliant. I shall order a servant to come and get you after I leave, and to accompany you wherever you wish to go in the house," he unlocked the door and opened it, ready to leave. He paused, as he slightly turned towards the gypsy: "I believe that it is unnecessary to remind you what would be the consequence both for you and the servant if you try to escape, is it not?," he waited for an answer.

"I know," she said quietly, as her eyes fixed hopelessly somewhere on the floor. Frollo smirked contented, as he exited and locked behind him.

It was not passed more than quarter of an hour, before Esmeralda was snapped out of her despaired state, that she had automatically sunk into. She heard the unlocking of the door, as after a moment Paulette appeared in her usual brown dress and apron, holding the big pewter keys of the house in her hand. The gypsy felt disappointment filling up her chest when she saw the old servant's bended, but still impudent face, instead of the shy one of Corrine. She knew that Frollo would not let her wander around the house without supervision, but when he mentioned a maid accompanying her, she immediately thought of the younger servant. Since she was here, Corrine was the only person that had treated her nicely, and now she was feeling a desperate need for it.

"I beg your pardon, Miss," Paulette started with quite, but disapproving voice, as her eyes went quickly all over the gypsy, "I was left with the impression that you would have changed about now. I was told that you wish to eat downstairs, but if it is not convenient now for you, I shall come at whatever time you please."

"No," Esmeralda interrupted absent-mindedly, "I will come with you now," she felt as she needed to leave that room as soon as possible.

"Would the Miss like to put some clothes, or you shall come like this," the servant ridiculed judgmentally, letting herself more loose than usual.

"Yes, the Miss would like to put some clothes," Esmeralda talked back angrily, remembering for a first time for a while what was the feeling doing so without being terrified for her life.

"Please, excuse me if I have offended you in any way, Miss," Paulette replied untouched. "I will wait outside when you are finish dressing and ready to go," she said, as she backed up, half closing the door and leaving the gypsy some privacy.

Esmeralda grabbed the green dress that Corrine had given her the previous day from the corner, where she had dropped it, putting it on hastily. She threw the night gown on the bed, as she hurriedly advanced to the door. She could almost feel it, the freedom beyond that disgustful, full with pain for her room. It was only when she opened the door and saw Paulette standing near it; the thought that she was still a prisoner hit her. She had not won anything, getting out of the room was not a victory or solution to her problems, in fact, it did not matter how far she could go from this room- she would still be under the minister's possession. A heavy weight filled up her chest when these thoughts crossed her mind.

"Would you like to have breakfast now," the servant asked with the same monotonous voice.

"Yeah, sure," Esmeralda replied as she numbly followed the maid downstairs, in the room where she had eaten the first morning in that house. A plate with eggs and sausages was already placed in one of the sides of the table, and she automatically went and sat there. Her mind was still absent, as the gypsy took a fork and started mechanically to put some food in her mouth. Some time passed in that manner, as she looked towards the door of the room, realizing that Paulette was standing on her feet, not far from her, during the entire time.

"You don't have to constantly stand there," Esmeralda said quietly.

"I am afraid I have to," the servant replied with her usual indifference.

"No, I mean, you can sit down if you want."

"That is very kind of you, Miss, but I prefer being here," Paulette drawled coldly.

"Probably you have other things to do as well, don't you," the gypsy asked after a pause.

"Yes, I do, Miss," the servant answered dryly.

"Won't Corrine do them for you," Esmeralda asked after a moment of hesitation.

"She has chores of her own, Miss."

"Where is she now?"

The servant looked her questionably, but replied in the same tone:

"Probably she is upstairs, cleaning up the rooms."

Esmeralda looked up again towards the table- it was pointless to try to talk with Paulette. She finished her breakfast in silence, and then as she placed the fork near the empty plate, she dully stared at the window.

"Are you finished eating, Miss," Paulette asked, interrupting her raring thoughts.

"Yeah," the gypsy replied absent- mindedly.

"What would you like to do now, Miss," the servant asked somewhat impatiently. Esmeralda really did not have the desire to do anything around, but she thought better to do something rather than return in her room-prison for the rest of the day.

"Can you just show me around?"

Paulette looked at her with frustration, but did not object. She just drawled "Follow me," and headed to the door making sure that the gypsy had followed her.

The house was bigger than Esmeralda expected. It had a lot of rooms with even more books in them than in the minister's bedroom. Frollo even had a separate office room, which however it did not seem to be used often; a library, which had the greatest amount of books on the shelves that the gypsy had ever seen; more than two fairly big guestrooms and a lot of smaller ones (she had stopped counting them after the third one); other rooms that she did not know what were exactly for, because she had stopped listening the detailed and pretentious explanations of Paulette; and even a separate wing with bedrooms for the servants, the cook and for other two men, which took care of other things around the house. By the time they were finish walking around it was already noon. Esmeralda felt tired and a thought passed her mind that it was not surprising anymore that it took all days for the two women to clean the house. She wondered what Corrine was doing.

"Let's go downstairs," the gypsy said after spending a few minutes in the last room that she had not been yet, which was just next to the minister's bedroom.

"As you wish, Miss," Paulette replied automatically however she did not care anymore to hide her rude tone.

It was only after lunch when Esmeralda saw for the first time this day Corrine. The gypsy was finishing eating as Paulette was again stood up behind her, as the younger servant entered and offered to start taking the empty dishes back in the kitchen. Esmeralda immediately wanted to talk with her, she wanted to talk with somebody that was not treating her as the nothing that Paulette and the minister did. Suddenly she heard the voice of the older servant, which startled her and snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Corrine, did you clean the chambers upstairs," Paulette asked with her usual impudent tone, as she stopped the servant, who was going back and forwards, taking the plates from the table.

"I did, Madame Paulette," she said with quite voice and bent head.

"Did you take care of the fireplaces in the house?"

"I did, Madame," Corrine slightly nodded.

"And the windows, did you make sure to wash them properly in every room," the older servant asked, as she seemed she was making an imaginary list of the work that needed to be done around the house.

"I did, Madame. Would you like me to go and wash the laundry as well," the servant asked with her obedient tone, wanting to help the other servant with her chores.

"That would not be necessary, Corrine," Paulette replied not changing the impudence in her voice. "You have done enough for today and anyway, you still have work of your own. I shall take care of it in the evening when my hands are free," she said slightly looking towards the gypsy, who was still seating and quietly listening to their conversation.

"You don't have to wait until tonight," Esmeralda suddenly interrupted them. Both Paulette and the younger servant looked at her. "I can stay with Corrine to "guard" me if you are so worried that I can escape, and you can go ahead and do your job," the gypsy said determined not to spend her entire "free" day in the company of Paulette only.

"I could do that if you like me to," Corrine said after a pause, as the other servant seemed as she had not really heard the words of the gypsy.

"No, I do not believe that the minister would be pleased," she finally said to Corrine

"Why would he care? As long as I am in this prison and there is a guard, what difference it makes which one of you will be," Esmeralda interfered in the conversation again. Paulette silenced, thinking over what the gypsy had just said. She lifted her head looking at the other servant.

"Alright then, I would be back as soon as possible." Then Paulette turned towards Esmeralda: "I beg you, Miss; I would really prefer to stay out of any trouble," and then she left the room.

"What would you like to do now, Miss," Corrine asked with her quite voice, looking at the gypsy.

"I don't want to get in your way of doing your job. Just do whatever you have to and I will follow you, anyway there is nothing that can be done in that prison. And please, don't call me "Miss"- use my name."

"As you wish, Esmeralda," the servant said lifting her eyes and looking friendly towards the gypsy. She went into the kitchen, where a big table in the middle was placed as well, and gestured Esmeralda to sit on one of the chairs that were around. The table was full with arranged different spices and vegetables, as well as the surroundings, and most of the walls were full with shelves. On one side there were pieces of hanged row meat and on another were disposed different sizes of pots and pans. Corrine took a bucket of water, as she added in it some hot water from the fireplace and placed it on the floor near the table. She pulled one of the chairs closer to it, and as she put a pile of dirty dishes in the bucket, she grabbed a cloth and sat on the chair. Esmeralda had sat on a chair nearby and observed silently the servant as she started taking each dish and scrubbing it thoroughly.

"Yesterday you told me that you are married to a soldier, right," the gypsy asked after a while. Corrine looked at her for a second then looked back to the dishes.

"Yes, I am, Esmeralda."

"I need to know something about an order that was given some day before, he might know it… you can ask him for me, can't you," Esmeralda said with determined voice.

"Oh, Esmeralda, if you want to know something about your people would be best to talk with…"

"No," the gypsy interrupted her sharply, "No, that's not what I meant… I mean I know what is happening with them… I think so," she paused as sadness filled up her chest. "I need to know something else. If your husband is a soldier then he must have known Phoebus…"

"Do you have in mind Phoebus de Chateaupers, the former captain of the guard?"

"Yes! Do you know him," Esmeralda asked excited.

"Only what my husband have told me about him- that he was a good leader, brave, noble and kind towards the people," Corrine stopped suddenly, looking again towards the gypsy. "Esmeralda, is that the man that you love?"

"With all my life," the gypsy said feeling warm tears blurring her eyes. Corrine looked down silently, taking another dish in her hand. They both paused for a while.

"What else do you know about him," Esmeralda broke out quietly.

"I know that he was convicted of insubordination, but that is not the truth, is it. The sentence of insubordination is death and he was only reduced in rank," the servant stopped suddenly as if she had just realized something. "You have done that, have you not? You have sacrificed your freedom in exchange for his?"

"So you know that he is just a soldier now," Esmeralda asked, ignoring her question. "…In Rheims, right? Do you know where?"

"In Rheims? But no, Esmeralda, he is here, in Paris," Corrine said as if it was something that Esmeralda knows.

"Here? Where," the gypsy asked lively.

Corrine suddenly looked down again and started zealously to scrub one pan.

"Please, Corrine, tell me," Esmeralda insisted becoming more impatient.

"I am not sure if I should be telling you that… The minister would not be pleased if…"

"If what? If I know where my love is," the gypsy was talking loudly and without any restrains. "He has lied to me! He said that Phoebus is not in this city, that he has left me. Don't you see? He was lying all the time. Who knows what else he has hidden from me. Please, Corrine, you wouldn't like to be lied about your love, would you. I just want to know that he is alright, that my sacrifice was not for nothing."

Corrine looked at her with sympathy, as her eyes sparkled from the tears that she had gathered as she had been listening the misery of the gypsy.

"I am afraid I do not know much. But I shall tell you what I know, but first you have to promise me that you would not try to go after him. Now I am with you, and if you escape the punishment would be on both of us."

"I promise," Esmeralda said almost mechanically.

"I believe you," Corrine returned with doubting voice.

"You should, I wouldn't lie to you. Please just tell me where he is."

"As I said my knowledge is limited. But I believe that he is part of the soldiers that secure the peace around the Place de Grève and the cathedral Notre- Dame, but I do not know whether he is assigned somewhere else or not," the servant said as she immediately regretted for doing so. She silenced, as she finished washing the last dish in the bucket, and put some new inside of it.

"Thank you," Esmeralda said miserably as she as well silenced.

It was late afternoon and Paulette had not come back to the gypsy and the servant yet, as they were now in the lounge on the first floor and Corrine was preparing the fireplace. It was only then when she had went for a moment in the other room to take some woods that Esmeralda finally found her opportunity to escape from the house. She stood up from the chair that she was sitting in and after a pause of hesitation she rushed to the big door, opening it and fleeing from it not looking back. She felt the fresh air feeling up her lungs, the warm touch of the sun over her skin, and the lively people outside her prison, each of which seemed occupied in their own things. All this had been missing her so much and finally she had the chance to see it again. But she thought that she should not lose time, now, when the most important thing was to find Phoebus. She ran along the street, directing to the cathedral of Notre Dame.

When Corrine came back she automatically looked at the chair, where she had last seen the gypsy. She dropped the pile of woods that she was caring, making them loudly resound on the floor.

"Esmeralda," she said with loud voice, scanning the rest of the room, but knowing that that was pointless. She saw the opened door and felt the rushing heartbeat in her chest.

"What is all that noise, Corrine," Paulette asked, coming in from outside with a bag of food products. She looked at the young woman and as she entered further in the room placed the bag near her feet so not to drop it as well. "Oh, girl, have you let her go?"

"No, Madame… I swear… I just let her out of my side for a second…," Corrine started stuttering, as tears were sliding along her cheeks.

"Oh, stupid girl," Paulette said roughly, but this time without impudence, but with fear in her voice. "Do you know what the minister would do to all of us when he finds out?! Losing our jobs would be the least of our worries. I trusted her to you; I trusted my life to you!"

"No, please, Madame Paulette, do not panic. I shall fix this. The minister would never learn," Corrine said trying to think more clearly.

"And what do you plan to do? Do you intend to search the entire city before the minister is back?"

"I believe I know where she is headed, permit me to try correcting all this," the younger servant said hastily, as she took off her apron and took her cloak in one hand and left the house without saying anything more. Paulette looked after her for a moment, then as she started nervously to circle the room she saw the drooped pile of woods and started arranging them and cleaning around.

It seemed to Corrine that everywhere was crowded with people. It looked as if there were more gypsies than usual on the streets, and the servant automatically looked up towards the sky just to see the already started to go down sun. She hurried up, trying to concentrate her search on women with green dresses. She headed towards the cathedral. She had walked often to there, but this time it seemed as a far away and strange to her place. Her heartbeat was running wild, she could barely take breath and she was now running across the streets, running into and pushing people. It seemed as if every woman with dark hair was Esmeralda, but she was mistaken. Everything seemed to mingle together in some illusion and nightmare that would never end.

The sun was nowhere to be seen in the sky, and lights from the houses were already emerging. It was not dark just yet and the faces of the people could still be seen, but hard and not so clear. Corrine had been circling the Place de Grève and the cathedral for some time now, but the gypsy was nowhere to be seen. Corrine leaned to the wall of the cathedral exhausted and hopeless. She had been tired of searching, running, yelling and praying to the Lord to help her. She knew that it was less than an hour before the minister return in the house and Paulette tell him that the younger servant had let Esmeralda escape. A tear came down her face, and she felt how her vision was becoming blurrier. Everything was becoming blurrier, the building, the colors, the shadows the people. She saw a green blurry color hastily to walk not very far from her. That suddenly snapped her out, and as she succeeded to distinguish the shapes again, her breath stopped as she yelled after the woman with the green dress, and ran towards her.

"Esmeralda," Corrine reached her, as she pulled her by the arm and made her suddenly stop.

"No," the gypsy yelled startling the servant, who let her arm. Esmeralda ran followed by the other girl, who had eventually succeeded to stop her when they were in an alley, which was significantly less crowded. "Please, let me go. I need to find him; I don't want to go back," she said crying, as the gypsy had tired herself of resisting.

"I beg you, Esmeralda, retain some sense. You would not be good for him if in prison or dead. Do you really think that the minister would not find you here," Corrine asked, at the same time trying to catch her breath.

"I don't know, but I need to find Phoebus. He is not here, I searched everywhere," Esmeralda said sobbing, as she collapsed on the ground.

"I promise you I shall ask my husband for him… I will find him for you. But please, now we need to go back at the house. There is less than an hour left until the minister is back, we need to hurry," the servant said softly. She was more than angry with Esmeralda, but she figured that in the condition that the gypsy was in anger would not solve the problem.

"I don't want to go back," the gypsy was repeating over and over again between her sobs. "I don't. I don't… I don't want him to touch me, to feel him on me… please don't make me," she cried out frantically. Corrine bent over her, as she hugged her, letting her rest on her shoulder, as the gypsy continued sobbing. After a while Esmeralda seemed a little more calmed down, so the servant decided to try again persuading her.

"We really do not have a lot of time left," Corrine moved her from her shoulder and looked at her wet, green eyes. "Esmeralda, I understand why you lied to me and escaped, but there is nothing for you here. You said that you have decided to stay with the minister because you did not wish to see more people suffer for you. Nothing is changed and if you still want to protect the ones that you love you need to come with me. I cannot really betray the minister- he has treated me with nothing, but kindness- but I promise that I will tell you more about your beloved one. You just need to be patient… Please, let us go back to the house; it will be too late if we wait a moment longer."

"Alright," the gypsy said weakly, "let's go."

The minister returned earlier than usual in the house. Indeed there was still much work to do, but after preventing two more gypsy riots he had decided to leave his judicial matters for a day when he would not just sent everyone to the gallows just because of his bad day. When he entered there was no one to be seen around. The candles were already lighted and the house seemed in perfect order. He walked inside as his mind immediately thought of the gypsy. In fact he had not stopped thinking of her all day, but now he thought he had figured it out what was on her mind in the morning after all. Paulette appeared from one room. She seemed very upset and quite as she went to the minister and respectfully bent her head. She was still searching for the most appropriate words with which to present the today's incident, as the minister drawled with his low, cold voice:

"She had escaped, had she not?"

The servant nodded slightly just so to be noticed, without saying anything more. Frollo's lips curled in something that was between a pleasurable and bitter smile, then it disappeared as he stared to the humbled servant.

"And why are you here and not after her," he asked with the familiar to the servant threatening voice.

"Corrine went after her, sir," she said almost whispering.

"Why Corrine would do that," Frollo asked with the same voice.

"Minster Frollo," Paulette started lifting a little bit her head from the floor, but still staring there, "I let her accompany the girl around while I finish my work. It was not for a long time, I assure you."

"You assure me," the minister clenched through his teeth with hatred, but in his voice could be found fear as well. "Your only work for today was to keep her in the house and you failed," he said raising his voice. "I left her to you and not to Corrine, was I not clear enough? For all that you know she might be helping her escape! That girl is not to be trusted with a heathen that can so easily trick her and apparently so are you! Pray to God they return before I find him, because then you all…"

Frollo was interrupted by the noise that came out from the opening of the door. Corrine entered first, followed by the gypsy who now was not crying. Her head was miserably bent down and she was numbly following the servant, as she slightly bumped into her as Corrine stopped suddenly after closing the door. She froze as she saw the minister and Paulette standing in the middle of the room. Esmeralda felt as well how shivers were running all over her body, but she lifted her head ready to oppose him. Frollo walked slowly towards them without saying anything. His eyes were piercing those of the gypsy, he was more than pleased that she was back to him, he felt relaxed, but instead his expression was showing anger.

"Corrine, would you be kind enough to answer me where have you been," the minister drawled slowly with surprisingly calm voice. The girl bent her head in respect, as she struggled starting her sentence. Without much thought Esmeralda step up before the servant and said untouched:

"Don't blame her. She has nothing to do…" the gypsy saw in a second how the minister lifted his hand and slapped her with incredible force through her face, making her legs weaken and eventually she collapsed on the floor from the sudden pain. Frollo felt regret for hurting her, but he did not show it.

"I believe I did not direct the question towards you," the judge said with cold, vicious voice. He coldly looked again at the frightened servant. "Tell me at once where you have been. Where did you find her?"

"At the Place de Grève, sir," Corrine answered barely heard.

"And do you know what she was doing there?"

"Sir, I… she was looking for…" the girl started stuttering. She knew that if she had told him, she would ask who had given her the idea that the captain might be found there.

"I was looking for my people," Esmeralda finished instead of the servant. She was still on the floor, placed her hand on her face where the pain from the judge's hit was still felt. Frollo looked at her confident eyes daringly, feeling the rage inside of him increasing.

"Leave us," he ordered coldly to the two servants, who did not wait for second order. Corrine quickly advanced towards Paulette, as they both headed to one of the doors. The younger servant turned on her way out towards the gypsy, who was following her with her eyes. Corrine barely noticeably nodded her head in gratitude towards Esmeralda and after another second of hesitation she followed Paulette outside the room, as she closed the door behind her. During that, Frollo was staring intensely the gypsy, but he spoke only after he heard the fading steps of the servants.

"Are you lying to me," he asked coldly the gypsy. She did not reply, but she had as well pierced her eyes in his. "I asked are you lying to me!"

"No, I don't lie," Esmeralda said with loud, determined voice and then she added mostly mumbling to herself, "…unlike you."

"What had you just said," the judge asked coldly.

"Nothing," the gypsy replied instantly. He suddenly rushed to her, grabbing her painfully for the shoulders, and as he lifted her from the floor he hit her back to the nearest wall.

"If you wish to say something, say it!"

"I don't!"

Frollo clutched strongly her face with his bony fingers. Esmeralda felt the cold metal from his rings on her skin and his face, which was very close to hers. He was intensely examining her expression.

"You tricked me, little witch," he hissed viciously. "You give me too much trouble for letting you out. Consider yourself a prisoner for now on; I will personally make sure that you will not leave the room, in which I put you in."

"You monster," she tried to escape his grip but she was one more time painfully hit to the wall. Frollo pressed to her with his entire body. He roughly pushed her head to the cold stone behind. He watched for a second her beautiful, but tortured face and as he leaned towards her he tried to kiss her tenderly. She turned her head aside escaping his lips. Then, she felt another heavy slap through her face, as Frollo viciously whispered in her year:

"Believe me, hitting you only gives me pleasure, but I warn you if you struggle I will make sure to give you as much pain as I can get out from this body before it becomes a corpse. No one would save you; I have you and your people under control. The sooner you learn that the better for you," he slid his hands down her body, as he pulled up her skirt and pressed himself harder to her. Esmeralda felt his arousing throbbing member pressing on her loins. "Open your legs," he said coldly.

The gypsy closed her eyes as she loosed her legs aside, sensing the judge opening his gown and pulling out of his pants his manhood. He moaned heavily as he entered in her, pressing her harder to the wall and starting rhythmic movements inside of her. Esmeralda's mind was already elsewhere. Now it was different- she had hope. The minister had lied to her; there was someone that can save her, someone that was closer than she had been told. She knew that Phoebus would come to her; she needed just to be patient. Frollo groaned heavily near her year, which made her shiver and it was only then when she realized that her top of the dress was stripped off her chest.


	8. Silence

Silence:

_**IT HAD BEEN**_ nearly four weeks since Esmeralda had agreed to give herself to Frollo in exchange of her life and the life of the ones that she cared about. The days were passing slowly, very slowly, and since the day she had tried to escape she was constantly locked only inside the bedroom of the minister. She was spending her time there pretty much the same as the first days in the house. Sometimes Frollo was calling her for breakfast downstairs, but rather often she ate alone in the room, as the servants were bringing her the food. They were not really aloud to communicate with her and to stay for more than a few minutes, but Corrine was always trying to comfort the gypsy as best as she could. The young servant had not forgotten her promise to learn more about the former captain and to tell her, but the development of this was progressing slowly. Once she shared with Esmeralda that the riots and the gypsies on the streets were becoming more and more and that's why all soldiers, including her husband as well, were working longer hours and were always exhausted at the end of the day. Corrine was worried about where all this might lead and that the times were not exactly the right ones to ask for the ex- captain, suggesting that it would be too suspicious. Esmeralda seemed to understand the situation, but when she asked to know more about her people, the maid just put her head down and said that she should not be in the room any longer. After that their conversations were short and rather empty. Esmeralda could tell that the servant was still distrusting her and she was still scared that the gypsy might try to run again. The gypsy was not blaming her for feeling that way, and in fact she was partially sorry that she needed to trick the only person in the house that she did not despise, but Esmeralda would not exchange for anything the few hours for freedom that she had had that afternoon. In fact that was the only thing that prevented her from total despair- that and the thought that Phoebus is somewhere in the city.

It was a Saturday morning when the minister woke up and saw as usual the huddled up gypsy on the other end of the bed. She was not sleeping, but she had faced the windows and did not make any signs of awareness. She seemed deeply sunk in her thoughts and not paying attention of anything else around her. The sun was giving up its first sun rays and it was warm outside, however the gypsy had surrounded tightly the blanket around her. She wore her night gown on her, but she was still feeling too exposed- she had never got used to the minister's presence and even though she was giving less of a fight, while Frollo was pleasurably forcing himself inside of her, she was still trying as much as she could to preserve her dignity if not then, then at least at the rest of the time. She sharply snapped out of her drifted state as she felt the cold hand of the judge sliding underneath her robe along her shoulder and back. She did not move; she just closed her eyes hoping that he would finish fast this time. It was too early in the morning to hope that the duty calling of the minister to go to work would safe her, so she submissively turned on her back when he pulled her. His hand was now on her shoulder, still beneath her night gown, when his fingers moved in front and started slowly to move down and up along the skin between her breasts. She remained silent and passive, as her green eyes were fixed somewhere on the ceiling. It was better this way- when she did not resist it, it was hurting less and sometimes when she was trying really hard, she was succeeding to ignore the humiliating things that the minister did with her body. However, it seemed to her that every time was getting longer and longer, and Frollo was more and more enjoying himself, at the same time wanting more and more of her. She didn't like it, she never did. Sometimes she wondered was it possible ever to experience some joy of it. She had always thought before that, that it was supposed to be happiness shared between two lovers, but how could she feel happiness by his abusive, stripping her hands, or the fact that she never let herself forget what he had done to her and her people. Her mind involuntary wondered if it was going to be any different if Phoebus was on his place. She shivered- the minister had moved the covers off her and was sliding his cold hand along one of her legs, advancing upper and upper. The gypsy automatically pulled it, locking her knees together. He looked at her- the same cold, mocking, libidinous, and impudent stare, which she had frequently seen in his eyes. His eyes- always proud, dark and piercing right through her soul, like she was constantly exposed, stripped, bare and naked in his view. He smirked; a cold, mechanical, and contemptuous smirk.

"Are you having something else in mind, my dear," he asked rhetorically as his lips slid aside the corners of his mouth, "something rougher, perhaps?"He was now near her legs, above her, almost seating on his knees, as he leaned towards his arm. His head bend slightly towards one of his shoulders, letting the few golden sun rays fall on his gray, disordered from the sleeping hair. His eyes impudently and libidinously examined her entire body, as his eyebrows lifted questionably towards her. She hated this; she hated all of it- his look, his low voice, his cold hands touching her, him being inside of her. She felt nauseous. She sighed heavily, as she loosened her legs, and closed her eyes without saying anything. He smiled victoriously. The gypsy put her head back up, as she felt his fingers and the even colder metal of his rings on her foot, knee, thigh… She really hoped that he would finish fast this time. Esmeralda felt cold as he lifted the robe to her waste, revealing everything beneath it. He pressed her with his body, but that did not make her feel any warmer. She could hear him smirking while he was staring at her face again. He loved playing with her, with every part of her; she was entirely his and his only. That thought was giving him some surprising tranquility. No one except him had ever touched her; no one except him would ever touch her. She was his private seducer, his private tempter to the gates of Hell, and he had somehow acquiesced with that thought. He was still giving a lot of money to the cathedral of Notre Dame in the idea of a "charity," he was still praying, going to church and practically opposing and chasing everything that he considered unholy, except these moments, when he was in his bedroom. He had come to the conclusion that in that time it was best to ignore the quite voice that was whispering in his head that his soul would burn for eternity for the sins of his flesh; and instead to give in to the urges that his entire body were screaming while being close to this goddess of hell.

Esmeralda closed harder her eyes as she jerked, feeling a sudden cramp in her stomach. She could not help it, but exile noisily though her teeth, overwhelmed with the abrupt pain that had come and gone. Frollo lifted his head from her chest, surprised from her spontaneous shudder. He felt the need to ask her what was wrong, but he did not. Instead he paused above her, examining her thoroughly in silence. Her head was now turned aside to the windows, buried, as much as she could do so while lying on her back. He hated this, he hated when he did not know what she was experiencing- he was convinced that he did not care whether it was hatred or despair, but he was enjoying himself when knowing exactly what he was causing her. He put his weight on one side of his body, as he lifted his other hand from the bed and directed it to her face. He clutched tightly her cheeks, as he roughly turned her towards him. Her green eyes pierced at him with hatred, but there was something else in them, some anguish that he had not found in them before. For a while he was staring at her, examining her, studying her, trying to figure her out. He felt somewhat peaceful while gazing at her face – she was so beautiful, her raven black hair that was now carelessly falling aside was making him feel even harder; her delicate dark skin was filling him with indescribable pleasure; her soft, formerly so lively, but now pale, lips were setting him on fire whenever he looked at them; and her eyes were always weakening his entire body, making him want to fall on his knees and beg for her love. He felt fire in his throat, he wanted to ask her if she was alright, if he could do something to make her feel better or anything at all. There was so many things that he wanted to tell her, but he felt that there was not enough words for them, that all of it was losing itself in the screaming silence between them. After a long pause, he smirked and drawled viciously:

"You know, I could be gentler with you, you have only to ask nicely." The gypsy did not say anything. She tried to turn her eyes as best as she could away from him, she could not stand his mocking expression for another moment. The pain in her stomach had gone as quickly as it had come, but she had the feeling it was still there. She knew more than well that he had not caused it; it was something else, something that had happened to her more than once. For a second a childish thought passed her mind, hoping that her pain would lead to some horrible disease that she could pass to Frollo. She was breathing heavily, feeling her chest go up and down, and sensing the minister's hand, which was still roughly holding her face across her bare, stripped breasts. She did not wanted to talk with him, she had not talked to him much this weeks, she feared that she would not control herself and the fact that she knew about Phoebus being in the city would eventually escaped her lips. She just hoped that he would soon stop looking at her and finish pleasuring himself with her. But instead, he broke after another long pause: "You do not have to pretend before me, my little sorceress, I know that you enjoy it as much as I do," his lips were transformed in a mocking smile, but there was some stone cold libidinous in his eyes and voice. She looked at him with repulsion, feeling nauseas again, but remained wordless. He smirked. "Very well then, you just lay still as a good little gypsy, and leave all the work to me," he pressed himself harder to her exposed genitals, as Esmeralda painfully felt his arousing member between her thighs. His night gown was the only thing that was now separating them. She looked again aside- at least now it was getting to an end. It was always the same- he was stripping her, rubbing his body against her naked one, exploring and mapping her nudity, and after feeling that he could not restrain himself any further he was thirstily pushing his manhood inside of her. "Yes," he drawled "it is what you like, is it not. You like being beneath, passively letting yourself to me, playing a victim, when it is you all along that has made this happen." Esmeralda greeted her teeth, he had let her head go, insatiable with his hands touching all over her, and she had turned it aside. She did not know how much of this she could bare before losing her temper and talking back at all the nonsense that he was hissing in her ear. "Relax," he sneered, "just be a good little girl and I will give you whatever you like, I will give you what you yearn for, my little fiend." He seemed enjoying his talks. He hardly thought that any of this was true, but he liked angering her and making her feel dirty. He was feeling the need to tell her something, even nasty, especially nasty. He slid his hands beneath her knees and started to fold her legs, pushing them aside, near her upper body. He was fully aroused, but he wanted to make it longer, to provoke her longer, and to have her longer… "You can trust me, you know that little witch. Whenever you were nice, I have given you what you…"

"Don't lie to me," the gypsy suddenly interrupted him, turning her head towards him and looking him spitefully. "Once was enough." He paused, still holding her legs near her.

"What are you talking about," he drawled incomprehensibly, surprised from her sudden shift of the moods, as he was still over her, not changing his position. She used his moments of passive realization to forcefully stretch her legs, escaping his grips, and dragged herself back to the frame of the bed, behind which was one of the stone walls. Now she was sitting, as her back was supported by the bed frame, and her knees were locked together before her. She rapidly grabbed the unbuttoned two pieces of the upper part of the night gown, joining them together so to cover her breasts. Her other hand started hastily to cover with cloth her exposed legs, but her eyes did not moved from the minister. He had just put his hands on the bed, supporting himself, as he was on his knees, and he on his turn was intensely staring back at her. He seemed he had snapped from the shock, but he let her cover herself anyway. He closed his head to hers, as she could now feel his breathes on her face, and he was still piercing his stare right at her green eyes, which were partially hidden with locks of hair.

"Do you wish to tell me something, gypsy," he asked with ice cold voice. She breathed several times, as she seemed to hesitate.

"I know about Phoebus," the girl finally said in one breath. Frollo backed up a little bit from her, surprised and in the same time disgusted by the mentioning of that name.

"I told you never to hear for him from your lips again," he said with attempt to control his voice, but the rage, the revulsion and the many others mingling emotions were slipping away. A silence followed.

"You also told me that he isn't in Paris," Esmeralda said after a pause, gaining some confidence and spite in her tone.

"He is not," the minister replied almost immediately, with determined, cold voice, which slowly indicated every syllable of the pronounced words.

"Lie," the gypsy yelled suddenly, "you're lying again!" Frollo swiftly grabbed her for the neck.

"Silence, you witch," he commanded loudly, not bothering to hide his anger anymore. "Who had filled your head with this deceiving scheme?!"

"Does it matter," Esmeralda replied not lowering her voice. Frollo closed his face again to hers, as he said with contented rage, emphasizing on every word:

"Yes, it does."

"So you don't deny it," the gypsy was too angry with him, and already knew that there was no turning back from this, but she did not intended to involve the maid as well. She decided to take all his rage upon herself, he could beat her as much as he wants, but she was going at least to tell what was on her mind. The minister remained silent, but was still looking her with incredible rage ready to tear her apart only with a stare. "Why aren't you yelling now," the gypsy continued, with a little less loud voice, but still louder than her usual speech. "Or is it because you have lied, is lie not one of your sins?"

"I have not lied to you," the judge said trying to manage his anger again. The gypsy felt that his grip was weakening and she used the chance to push his hand off her. She could still sense him though.

"Is this also a lie? What else have you not told me? Is Clopin dead? Where is Phoebus?"

The judge suddenly slid his hand between her and the wall, gripping and pulling locks of her hair from the back of her head. She jerked and screamed from the sudden pain.

"Shut this pretty mouth of yours at once," he clenched through his teeth.

"No," she said whimpering still from the pain. She had bent her head toward his pulling arm, in order to lesser the hurt. "I conformed to all your sickening actions," he pulled her harder and she cried out again, "but that's it. You do not have anything to keep me shut anymore. Who knows where Phoebus is, and what other lies have you told me, is there anything true that have come out of your mouth?"

"Shut up," he yelled hitting her head to the wall.

"Why, I am as good to you as dead! All this time putting it in me while I lied still, that is turning you on, isn't it?" He hit her one more time harsher to the cold stone, and she screamed with pain. "That's right, kill me and after that fuck me! I bet it won't be any different for you!"

"Silenced this filthy thing of yours," Frollo shouted in her ear as he took with his other hand her face and squeezed it. Esmeralda felt how he was suffocating her and started moving wildly. Her hands, formerly automatically grabbed his wrist in order to ease the grip, now let them go, and along with her legs she started punching and kicking hopelessly at all directions. The minister was larger and stronger than her, and she knew that it would not make any difference even if she overpowers him, but that did not matter anymore. She did not have a plan, she was holding onto the moment, on the goal to survive this. In a moment, with one lucky kick, she succeed to hit him in his chest and to push him a little bit from her. She breathed heavily, as she collapsed her exhausted body again pressing on the bed frame, the wall and the pillows on which she was sitting, trying to enlarge, as much as she could, the distance between them. She was inhaling and exhaling rapidly, as she saw the minister, now sited on the middle of the one side of the bed, doing the same, as his eyes were now wide opened, and he was clenching his hands in fists.

"Do not dare to permit yourself such insolence again," the judge said with incredibly calm voice.

"Or what," the gypsy said boldly as she put her head rest on the wall behind, still looking right at him.

"Don't," the minister threatened, wishing to retreat from that scene. He was still beyond rage and he did not know if he could really control himself. He was regretting for every hit that he had laid upon her, but in the same time he wanted to continue causing her pain. He broke the stare from her, looking away in order to repress the desire of damaging her.

"Nothing has changed," she said with serious and untouched voice. "I want answers, and you want to fuck me and kill me, and not necessarily in that order."

"For goodness sake woman, shut that thing if you know what is best for you!" the minister shouted with great rage, tightening himself and not moving from his place in order to restrain himself from killing her. Esmeralda mechanically closed her eyes from startling, but opened them quickly

"What is good for me is far away from this prison of torture!"

"Silenced," Frollo over yelled her, concentrating on his breathes so not to think of her.

"Everything good for me you took away," she continued without seeming to notice him. "And you have probably killed everyone, for who I have agreed at first place to put up with that, to put up with you! Have you really persuaded yourself that I desire all that humiliation? That I want your pervert hands to even touch me, or you to crawl on me whenever you are hardened?"

"You better silenced you mouth, or…"

"Or what? Kill me if you dare, why I should be scared, you have killed everyone that I cared about, haven't you? My people, where are they if not in the Palace of Miracles? You chased them off their homes, and now you are decorating the walls of the city with their heads," Esmeralda did not seem able to stop herself.

"Who told you…" the judge started over shouting her, but he was again interrupted.

"Who told, who told! Why, because I was supposed to be isolated here so I would never find out! Well, I know about the riots and that you are massacring the people you promise to let free! Is it not true, are you not killing as we are speaking thousand for whom I have decided to be with you at the first place?"

"Shut up, you don't know anything!"

"No, I know! I know you like fucking me while I am silent, but I guess you won't do it now, will you?! I don't arouse you when I speak, do I? You like me silent, but I won't be anymore! I want answers and not lies! If I have them, and if I know they are true I promise that you will have again your corpse for playing, but is there any reason, any at all, to do what you please now? Kill me if you wish, I don't want to live without the hope that Phoebus is alive and one day he can slice your throat out!..."

In a second Frollo snapped and grabbed her harshly by the neck. He dragged her to one of the windows with inhuman force, and without say anything he pushed her body halfway down through the window. He leaned towards her and sneered spitefully:

"Remember the first time when we did this? I showed you your people, free and unharmed leaving the city. Now you see the ones that are left. And mark my word, heathen, the next time we do that you will see the entire city burning along with YOUR PRECIOUS WHORE-LOVER!" He pulled her back and hit her to the wall nearby: "And then, when you beg me to kill you, I shall take everything, that I gave you, off your body," he slid his arm along her inner thigh, "I shall "PLAY" with you for a last time and when you are beyond comprehension, "sickened" by everything that I have done to you, I shall grant you your wish and let you fall from this very window, where your filthy, unholy flesh will rotten!"

Esmeralda did not say anything, her eyes were full with tears- what was she imagining?- she would always be his slave as long as there was still a gypsy life in the city that he could threaten to take. She could not bear the thought of knowing to be the reason of the death of anyone, what was left for annihilation of entire city. She needed to protect the lives of the gypsies left in that city, and the minister was only searching for a reason to kill them.

"Are we clear," he asked coldly. Esmeralda barely nodded her head, as she tried to look as boldly as she could. "Will you be silent," he asked and she nodded mechanically, "and not mentioning him again?"

"You wish that…" she started but found strength to stop. However it was too late, the minister grabbed her by the back of the neck, causing her incredible pain, and he dragged her in the middle of the room, in front of the bed. He turned her in order to face him, so now they were standing still, face to face.

"Kneel," he said coldly. She looked at him with enlarged eyes, not moving. "KNEEL, I SAID."

The gypsy blinked rapidly, startling from his sudden change of voice. She looked at him in the same time with spite, fear, threatening and begging. She did not realized what she was doing before she felt that one of her legs slowly bent, followed by the other, and she found herself kneeled before him. Her night gown was covering her knees, but she could still feel the cold, stone floor underneath. She did not want to look up, but she did not want to look what was in front of her either. For a moment she looked straight at the floor, but then she sensed him advancing, and he roughly pulled her head up. She looked at his cold, vicious and self- pleasured expression.

"What are you doing," she asked childishly, if she did not know the answer already. He smirked.

"You know, you are not the first pretty girl that I have seen in my life, but you are the first one that dares to talk to me like this," he laughed somewhat falsely. "I guess that is how you enchanted me, how you kept me in your trap," he went closer to her, holding more firmly her head. "Now, you better do exactly what I order you, or my threats would not be just words, but deeds." With his other hand he lifted his night gown until it was above his waste. Esmeralda, more than ever convinced of what he wanted her to do, tried to turn her head aside, but his fingers were holding her strongly. "Don't move," he said with low, serious voice, as he let the hold of her face. She did not move, she did not dared to. His free hand slid around her lips, and he pushed one of his fingers between her objecting lips. He felt with incredible pleasure the moist and warmth inside her mouth. "Open it," he ordered, as she was looking up to him, but still saw with panic his arousing member. She conformed to this order as well. He smirked. "You like using your mouth, do you not," he grinned libidinously, "I believe I shall find a pleasing way to use it myself. He advanced even closer to her, as his hand went on the back of her head, and he grabbed her firmly: "Esmeralda, I believe it is the time to teach you of the virtue of silence."

**_WHILE_ **Frollo was dressing, Esmeralda sat lifelessly on the floor, as she had put her back against the outside side of the frame of the bed. She had fixed her stare at the empty space before her, and she looked rather dead than alive. Her head was numbly tossed aside. A few tears had dried on her face while sliding down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she had just folded her arms around her in order to cover the still unbuttoned night gown. Her legs were clinging closely to one another. The minister had finally finish dressing, as he adjusted his white color and took his hat in one of his hands. He approached her, she did not move, only her big, green and empty eyes slowly looked dully up towards him with a mixture of exhaustion and despair. He stared for a moment back at her- his eyes were peaceful, serene and untouched. The sharp lines of his expression had not become softer, but somehow even if his face was the same cold and indifferent one, he looked rather satisfied and pleased. Esmeralda had never before seen him like this and she wished never to have had to. It seemed to her that now she hated him even more if that was possible, and a thought went through her mind, wishing to see his mocking or vicious expression- anything, but that contented, peaceful one. A slight smile, almost unnoticeable, appeared on his mouth. He had really broken her, but he did not care. All that he could think of was the incredible pleasure beyond any words of sin and vice that he had experienced while at the same time crashing her arrogance. He was not mad anymore, how could he? He felt at peace, without any worries and anger, without any fears of his soul- nothing had changed except that he did not care anymore. For a second he wondered how long this blissful ignorance would continue.

"Wash yourself, dress something more proper and I shall send a maid to get you for breakfast after a quarter of an hour," he ordered with a voice that was neither vicious nor mild- with indifference that the girl had never heard from him before. He took the keys from his pocket and directed to the door. Esmeralda did not move; her eyes were blindly watching the same place where Frollo had been standing just a moment ago. He opened the door and slightly glanced towards her and paused. "Most of the gypsy rebellions are locked in the dungeons and are waiting their trials. I have not seen your friend Clopin, so as far as I know he is unharmed. The ex-captain was indeed transferred in Rheims, but a lot of their soldiers were sent here to help in the managing of the riots. I do not say untrue things and the sooner you learn that the better for you," he exited and locked behind him. Esmeralda had listened stilled, but as she heard him getting away from the door she slowly turned her eyes full with tears and stared the door.

_**IT DID NOT **_take long for the gypsy to appear in the dining room downstairs, but the way that Paulette acted near her suggested that she had made sure for that. Esmeralda wore the green dress that Corrine had given her, she always wore it. Frollo had not said anything, but he seemed to mind whenever he saw her with it. He had not given her any more gifts and she was somehow grateful for it. The maids brought the two trays and as usual started to put them on the table. Frollo sat in his usual seat, on the one end of the table and the gypsy sat on the other. After the servants were done they quietly backed up a few steps from the table and stayed there with bowed heads in case the minister wished something else. Usually he was ordering them right away to leave the room, but now he seemed he had forgotten about them. His eyes were fixed on the gypsy and the light that was falling on her revealed skin around the neck. The maids did not say anything, but Corrine was permitting once and a while to separate her stare from her shoes and to look either towards the minister or towards the gypsy. All the morning the servants as well as the other workers in the house had heard the loud shouting from upstairs, and even though they all pretended not to notice them, all of them were listening intensely if they could understand a word or two. The young servant was worried from the way the gypsy looked, but at least she was glad that she was still alive. Except of the few seconds of looking, she did not show any other sign of sympathizing Esmeralda.

"Do you not have appetite this morning, my dear," the minister drawled teasingly, after a while, as the gypsy had not moved since she had sat down. Her eyes separated from the table, and she looked at him lifelessly without saying anything. Frollo smirked. "Eat," he commanded more coldly this time, losing the tease in his tone.

The gypsy looked again to the table and reached to the fruit basket. She split one purple berry from a bunch of grape and stared at it for a while, playing with it with her fingers. She looked for a second the minister who was still staring her and intimidating her. She looker the berry again and slowly put it in her mouth, feeling nauseas at the second she did so. She crushed it between her teeth, tasting the sweet juicy flesh of it, as she suddenly felt another cramp in her stomach and jerked again. She involuntary gritted her teeth feeling the seeds of the grape between them. She loudly coughed as she felt more and more nauseas. Frollo was watching her unmoved. She put a hand on her mouth as she felt the coming back food in her throat. In a part of the second her heart jumped wildly, beating faster, as she had finally realized. She was not suffering of any disease, it was not something that hopefully she could pass to Frollo; it was something that he had passed to her. She abruptly stood up, knowing that she could not control herself anymore, and she could only manage to drop on her knees aside as she vomited her inner juices on the floor. The servants were ready to run to her to help her, but the minister had already ran to her, falling on his knees next to her and gently supporting her by the shoulders.

"What is wrong," he asked without thinking too much, in a voice that was letting out his concern for her. She did not answer, breathing quickly and looking in some trance the place where she had vomited. Frollo shook her by the soldiers to snap her out of that state, repeating this time with more control over his voice, "What happened?" She looked at him, as she wiped her mouth with one hand.

"What happened? You happened," she said quietly, but full with vice tone. "You really thought that you could put it in me without any consequences?" The minister grabbed her shoulders harsher as he asked coldly:

"What are you talking about?"

Now she was looking right at his eyes, as she said with sharp, cold spite:

"I am pregnant, you idiot."


	9. Doubt

Doubt:

_**FROLLO**_ abruptly took his hands off the shoulders of the gypsy as if she had suddenly become highly contagious from some terrible disease. They were still piercing their stares at one another as the minister swiftly stood up back on his feet, at the same time backing up a few steps away from the still on the floor gypsy. He was looking down at her with horror, incomprehensiveness, disgust, panic and so many others feelings that were mingling across his face.

"Get out," he commanded to the maids, when still looking straight at Esmeralda. His voice was full with repulsion and vice and even though he was not shouting it was clear that he was lost in rage. The servants did not wait for a second order; they quickly headed to the exit. Corrine glanced for a second towards the gypsy with pity in her eyes, but left quickly after that. Frollo waited to hear the door closing before he continued, now talking to the girl on the floor: "You are lying," he hissed with controlled tone. Esmeralda's cold, hateful eyes now added disgust in them as well.

"Why I would lie for such a thing," she asked repulsively with trembling voice.

"Then you must be mistaken," the minister said immediately, as if trying to think of all the alternatives that did not lead to the reality of the gypsy's statement. Esmeralda broke her look from Frollo and looked down to her hands on the floor. She sighed heavily, leaving a long pause between the words of the minister and her reply.

"I wish I was, but somehow I can tell that I am not."

Frollo did not say anything further. He was quietly watching the bent down head of the gypsy, and even though he could not see her face he was quite positive that tears had started spilling down her eyes. He observed her for a while, not saying anything, trying to process all that had happened. Suddenly he felt the need to move around; he felt that the room was too small, too dark, and too suffocating. Just moments ago he was feeling content, pleased, as if rising all above the licentious filth that he had been feeling to sink recently. For once he had felt at peace, but then it seemed to him that he was abruptly pulled back down to all that inequities and vice. He directed to one of the windows in the room. He looked outside- it was a warm and sunny morning. Just now Frollo realized that the time he usually leaves his house for attending his daily duties had long ago been passed. He sighed heavily concentrating more on the outside view. The people seemed to be occupied with their daily work- the women were busy circling with baskets in their hands, buying vegetables or bread for their homes, or taking care of their children that they had took outside for a walk; the men were usually in cliques lively discussing one matter or another; and the soldiers, who could be seen around were angrily terrorizing every beggar or gypsy that they could found on the street. Everything seemed in its order and purpose. The world had not stopped functioning without the presence of the judge in it, but he suddenly felt the need that it was essential for him to leave the house and concentrate on organizing the city. He finally separated his eyes from the view outside and looked the gypsy. For a moment his eyes hurt from the sudden shift of light to dark, as he automatically closed them. He looked the girl again, noticing that she had not moved from the last time he saw her. He advanced a few steps towards her wondering if she was still crying. Without taking his eyes from her he slightly turned towards the door and said with a loud voice, suddenly startling her.

"Paulette," for a moment nothing happened so the minister turned more to the door and repeated, "Paulette, do you not her me calling?" The servant came not long after that, as she quickly bowed her head and asked rather unnecessarily.

"Did you call for me, minister?"

"Yes," the judge drawled irritated. He had returned to his usual cold and spite state, but still in his motions and voice a trace from panic and shock were left. He barely glanced toward the gypsy, who had not moved. "Take her back to my room," he started authoritatively and rather impatiently, "I do not want anyone to communicate with her- neither a word, nor a glimpse; close and lock everything there- all windows, closets, cabinets and doors; and after you have locked the door I do not want anyone to enter or leave that room, if even the slightest of these orders is not followed I shall arrange a slow, painful death for all of you. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," the maid said quietly as she nodded in conformation.

"Good," Frollo murmured as he left the room without looking towards the gypsy any further. Paulette immediately went to Esmeralda, slowly assisting her to stand up and guiding her to the exit. She did not resist any of this; she just let herself numbly to follow the servant not really looking where she was going or why.

_**FROLLO **_was absent-minded through the entire afternoon. He tried to concentrate on his work, but the scenes from the morning were repeating over and over again in his mind, as millions of doubts, concerns and questions were screaming all at the same time in his head. How could he have not foreseen it? How could he have not prevented it? What was he thinking? No, it was clearly not his fault. It was the gypsy all along that had made him sunk to that level, to base himself in that sin and filth. It was surely not him to blame, the demon had consumed him; he was powerless against such vice. The Lord had made him weak, weaker than her, but now the minister had to pay for that. The thing inside her was evil, wicked, created from his own sins. What was he supposed to do now? What would be right in the eyes of God? He was clearly punished; the devil had used him to destroy his virtuousness, to corrupt him, to devour him in the fires of Hell, and he had given in. All the experienced bliss, pleasure, and heaven, which he had known while sinning with her, was now returning in even greater debts. But that came to him like a shock, not only his immortal soul was now doomed in eternal flames, but his mortal life as well. What would he do if that became public? It was one thing the fruitless rumors of him bedding an unholy creature outside any accepted unions; that was easy to deal with- a death followed anyone who dared to try to spread it, but all that was real and now there was actually a prove of it. Her pregnancy was a prove of his weakness, of his licentious deeds in the eyes of the others; he could no longer ignore what he was doing- she being with a child made all of his actions with her real. And now everyone would know. What he was supposed to do- that child was obviously perdition. But to let it be killed was against the Church and the Lord- even Frollo could not ignore such a sin. He could not even kill the gypsy- it was against the law and the Christians to kill a pregnant woman, but there was something more- he did not think himself capable to take her death with indifference. However, if that child comes in life, his entire reputation would be at stake, moreover his power would be lost. He could not afford that, and surely he could not hide the fruit of his actions if came in life. What was he supposed to do- if he killed the child he would be judged by the Lord, if he did not he would be judged by the people. But that was not simply a child, it was the product of his sins with a witch, it should have been forbidden to happen. Why the Lord had caused him this- he was faithful; he was virtuous; he was above the common filth of vermin in that city; judging all those offenders of the Holy Virgin, when his only weakness was that he was not made stronger by the Lord. Why God had decided to punish him, to punish his fidelity, his loyal servant on Earth. For the first time he felt he was doubting the Lord's ways.

"Minister Frollo," a rough voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The minister looked around as if he had just now realized where he was. The dungeon was as usual- dark, cold and wet. The torch in the hand of the guard, who had drawn the attention of the judge, was playfully spilling the light from its flames on the old, cracked stones. It seemed as if just now Frollo heard the cries and pleads of the man, who was tortured not far from where the minister was standing. "The gypsy gave two more names and locations of the others with him who trespassed yesterday back in the city," the guard started reporting when he saw the look of the minister as if he had just arrived and did not know anything that had happened for the past few moments. "Will you order to continue with the torture, sir?"

Frollo did not say anything for a while, as if trying to concentrate his memories on what had just happened. He looked coldly towards the bleeding gypsy, and then to his tormentors.

"How many does he claim have come to the city with him," the minister finally asked.

"Only two, sir, but after a few more minutes here the number might as well increase."

Frollo paused for a second time, leaving only the cries of the tortured gypsy to be heard.

"No, that is enough. Take him back into his cell. Tomorrow, along with the other captured trespassers; he will be made an example of for the rest of the gypsies."

The guards started to unlock the chains, which had held him to an iron bed. Frollo was hearing as if somewhere in the distance, far away, the gipsy's cries and curses, but his mind was again consumed with the morning events. He was too distracted to be able to think clearly about his work today and he knew it. He did not wait the guards to escort out the tortured man and to take in the next one. He appointed the head of the guards to continue with the interrogations and left the dungeon.

_**NOT LONG**_ after that he was on his way in his carriage to the only place, which he believed could forgive him what he had done. It was already late afternoon, and the steps of Notre Dame were full with people who were gradually leaving the cathedral. Frollo felt at the same time at peace and at great anxiety as he saw from the distance the many statues of saints and the one of the Holy Virgin, as if all of them had pierced their accusing empty eyes at him. He closed his eyes and swallowed, as he mechanically crossed himself before leaving his carriage. He left his body automatically walked through the familiar way inside the cathedral, as his thoughts were again randomly taking his attention and screaming in him at the same time millions questions and possible outcomes. Before he had realized he found himself in front of the confession room. He paused for a moment as he looked around, noticing for the first time that the entire cathedral had become empty. Here it was cooler than outside, the large empty space looked somewhat dark, when only near the altar, where thousands of candles were burning it seemed bright and warm. The big cathedral windows, high above the floor, which were as well randomly spilling their last colorful shades of light upon one place or another, made the entire ceiling covered with golden light as if there was a heavenly world just above the darkness below.

"Minister Frollo," a familiar warm, but in the same time unfriendly to him voice snapped the judge out of his thoughts; "the cathedral will be close in less than a quarter of an hour."

"I have to confess myself," the judge returned with his usual authoritative voice. The archdeacon looked him surprised.

"Could it not wait until tomorrow when you always come for confession?"

"No, Sunday it would be too late," the minister replied coldly and impatiently. The other man looked him in the same time suspiciously and with curiosity.

"Have you visited him today," the archdeacon asked after a pause completely changing the subject.

"No," Frollo replied dryly. For a second they did not say anything, as the archdeacon looked at him accusingly, but then he sighed and said that he would hear his confessions. The cathedral was already about to close, but from the moment the minister said that he had to confess immediately the interest of the priest had awakened. Frollo was a devoted Catholic and each Sunday he was confessing his sins, but he was always rather discussing the vice and base of the city as the devil's instrument to push him to transgress the Lord's law. Moreover, in these recent weeks he had not even once mentioned none of what he considered his greatest crimes- the things that he was doing to Esmeralda. In fact he was succeeding pretty well of not recalling her existence at all. There was times when the archdeacon was stressing more than one time if that was all his sins, but after the minister tactically reminded him that the slanders to an official are punishable with death the priest just quietly gave his forgiveness and let him go. But this time was different, and the archdeacon could sense it.

"Forgive me Father that I have sinned," the minister started as he sat in the small room with bowed head.

"Continue," the archdeacon said mechanically.

"I have doubts," the judge said after a pause, "I have always before done what God wants from me and I have never questioned Him. But now I have doubts in my actions, in myself, but above all, I doubt the Holy Mother."

"God works in mysterious ways and we cannot always see His plan for us," the archdeacon said after the minister had stopped talking for a minute.

"Yes, but I need guidance and I am not sure if the Lord can give it to me," the minister replied with his usual low voice. There was a long moment of silence, which the archdeacon interrupted:

"What are your doubts," he finally asked.

"Before the words of the Blessed Virgin were clear to me and I always did what she asked from me. But now they are unclear, I doubt in my power, in Her power. The Lord made me weaker than my enemies and now he is punishing me for that. The demon wrecked my way to Him, dividing it into two paths and I am not certain anymore which one leads to Heaven and which to Hell," the minister paused, "I need your guidance."

"What are the paths, for which you talk," the archdeacon asked.

"If I take the first one," Frollo started looking blindly in front of him, "I would not trespass the Lord's law, but I would submit to a sin and let it spread its ill in the city, in the same time tearing the order in it. It would mean to reject all the good deeds that I have done in it," he breathed heavily and paused. "If I decide to follow the second path I would break the God's law, but I would as well demolish a greater crime and maintain the peace of this city," he stopped, as another silent moment followed. The archdeacon was listening him carefully, as he repeated in his mind a few more times the words of the minister before he replied to him:

"It seems you have already decided which path is the one to Heaven, have you not," he said slowly.

"But could it be right to doubt and trespass a Lord's commandment," the minister asked immediately. Another pause followed.

"Are you asking for my permission," the archdeacon replied with another question. Frollo did not say anything. "Perhaps I could be more helpful to you if you just say what worries you," the priest started, but Frollo interrupted him sharply.

"No, you were right Father, I have already chosen what to do and I do not need your permission. I have doubted the ways of God, but I have never doubted the human laws. I believe that the preserving the order in this city and my reputation as a Christian would be enough to please the Blessed Mother." The minister crossed himself and stood up. Not long after he had left the confession room the archdeacon came from the other one. He looked at Frollo- his expression did not suggest that he was at peace. He seemed rather nervous and tired over something. The priest knew that there was no point of trying to understand what the minister has in mind, now it was left only to pray that he would not harm someone.

"The cathedral is already closed, but you can still go and visit Quasimodo," the archdeacon said quietly.

"No, I do not have the time for him now," the minister returned quickly. He looked towards the altar, the benches in front of it and the lighted during the entire days and nights breviary. "But I will stay here a little bit longer," he stated without asking a permission.

"But you cannot, it is already dark outside," the archdeacon objected, "nobody from outside should be in the cathedral when it is closed."

"I do not ask you," the minister returned impudently, "I am telling you."

The priest looked at his authoritative, cold, but tired expression and sighed heavily knowing that it was pointless to continue the argument. After a pause he added:

"Do you still have doubt?"

Frollo looked down for a second and said with quite, but firm voice: "Yes," and without anymore words he directed to the breviary. The archdeacon observed him as he went there, crossed himself and sat with bent head in the front row directed to the altar and stilled motionless. The priest lighted a candle and wordlessly headed to one of the doors in the cathedral, leaving the minister in the dark, silent and cold cathedral with his tortured soul.

_**THIS**_ night Frollo did not returned home. Esmeralda spent the entire day locked in his bedroom as he had ordered. None of the servants had visited her, but before Paulette had locked her in the room she had asked Corrine to prepare a basket of fruits and other foods just in case to leave it with the gypsy so not to let her starve all day. Paulette surely did not like the girl, but even though she was treating her with the same impudent indifference it seemed as if she was sympathizing with her condition. Nevertheless, Esmeralda did not eat the entire day, how could she? She was terrified by what was inside of her; she was in the same time feeling disgust and compassion to it; wondering what would happen to both of them. The gypsy was never obligated to take care for anything- she was the protected one, the child among all her people, and now she was with a child, who she was not sure if she detested or not. The thing that was growing inside of her could be just another victim as her, but it could also be another genocidal fanatic just as the pervert that put it in her at first place. The gypsy was not even sure if she would know it. She knew that Frollo would do something to cover his actions and that was what terrified her the most. He would not let her go- that was for sure- so what was left was either to send away the child immediately after it was born or even worse- to get rid of the gypsy, to kill her. That thought was returning over and over again in her mind, scaring the poor gypsy, and making her mad. She wanted to get out; to escape; to have this thing out of her. The entire day she was circling around the room, searching through every crack on the walls, as if one of them would suddenly enlarge and be her way to her so desired freedom. She was getting more and more frantic, as sometimes she was falling into despair, others she was frantically screaming and kicking everything around, scared that the minister might appear from the door every moment and end her fragile life. A thousand images of him killing her were playing over and over again in her mind, as every time it was different- sometimes he was just strangling her to death, others he was throwing her through the window, or even he was sending armed soldiers who were dragging her outside and burning her as a witch. And every time she was seeing the ice cold, vicious eyes of the minister until her last breath.

She opened her eyes and just now she realized that it was already dark. There was no trace of the minister, and she felt incredible pain from starvation in her stomach. She had not eaten the entire day, she had missed breakfast and she had vomited what was left in her stomach from yesterday's food. She stood up from the floor, where she had collapsed, and went to the basket with fruits. Without giving it too much thought she took one green apple, hungrily biting it and nosily started to chew it. After a few more bites, she felt the pain in her stomach disappear and she threw the rest of the apple away among the other mess that she had made in the room. It was almost midnight as she had dropped again on the small carpet aside the bed and before she could realize herself she had finally let the tired that she was feeling throughout the entire day overtook her body and she fell into a deep sleep.

_**IT WAS**_ a cold morning when Esmeralda, all frozen and trembling, suddenly opened her eyes in alarm as she heard the unlocking of the door. She hurriedly started to lift herself with her hands from where she was lying, so when Frollo harshly pushed the door wide opened and laid his ice cold stare upon the gypsy, she had grabbed herself in a ball on the floor, not daring to move any further. The minister was looking even more intimidating than usual- his silver hair was falling in disorder, his clothes were all rumpled and the dark circles under his eyes had become even bigger and more apparent than usual. He quickly scanned the room, as he saw the turned upside down furniture and all the spilled on the floor things. He automatically looked back to the gypsy as his cold eyes pierced at her. For a moment Esmeralda thought that he would ran and crush her in a second, however when she looked at him his eyes were not angry, his expression was rather cold and indifferent.

"Get up," he commanded with freezing tone. The gypsy mechanically did what she was told. She was trembling and she found that she did not have the courage to look at him. His eyes moved quickly all over her, seeing that the green dress that she was wearing yesterday was still on her, but now it was with dirty spots on it and all wrinkled. "Come here," he said with the same unmoving voice and he observed her as she obediently walked to him. He backed up a few steps, still not putting his eyes from her, and freed the way for her to exit the door. He did not touch her, he just ordered her to proceed to the exit downstairs and as she walked slowly across the house he followed her impatiently, wordlessly observing her carefully during the entire time. When they got out of the house he pointed her to get in the carriage and after he seated himself on the opposite side in it they got under way in silence.

It had not passed more than a half an hour, but for the gypsy it seemed as if the carriage was traveling forever before it had finally stopped. From inside nothing could be seen, and the heart of Esmeralda stilled in terror as she was more than sure that the minister was leading her to her death. It was still very cold morning and while they were in the carriage Frollo had thrown at her a dark cloak with which she could keep herself a little bit warmer, and which after hesitation she had surrounded around her. While they were traveling the minister was not looking at her anymore, in fact he had been staring throughout the entire way the same empty space in front of him. When the carriage stopped and Esmeralda heard the ringing of the bells it hit her as for the first time this morning that it was Sunday. The gypsy was kept in the house for more than four weeks, and until now the minister had been always visiting early in each Sunday morning the cathedral of Notre Dame. That was the only place that he was visiting in Sunday and when he was returning home he always spent the rest of the day locked in his library.

The door of the carriage opened and Frollo exited first. He glanced towards the gypsy for a second, but it was enough to make her do what he wanted. She slowly took off the carriage, now clutching her fingers in the cloak around her. Her entire body was trembling, but she was determined to face her deadly fate with dignity. She was surprised to see that they were neither at some dungeon, nor at some deserted place. They were not even at the gallows. Instead she found herself in a poor neighborhood full with beggars, different ethnicities and street sellers of already rotten food.

"Come along," the minister said with the same cold voice as he directed to the small, dark, but full with strange decorations house in front of them. He waited for her at the door and as she hesitantly followed him, knowing that she does not have much of a choice escaping him in that situation, he knocked hastily several times on the door. It opened making a lot of noise, as a young girl not more than fourteen invited them in. The gypsy thought that the minister seemed strangely familiar to all of this, as he mechanically looked around the street before entering. When he was inside he looked to the still on the door gypsy and automatically grabbed her arm roughly pulling her inside the house. He seemed to immediately regret for touching her as he suddenly dropped her arm.

Esmeralda found herself in a small room with a low ceiling. There were windows, but the millions of stuff hanged around them and the dirt that the glass was covered with made the room look dark and murky. The entire area looked in complete disorder. There were a lot of plants, dried leaves, herbs, jars full with different color liquids or other unrecognizable substances, iron symbols and even death animals lying all over the old, dusty wooden tables, shelves and hangers. The fourteen year old girl, who was very dark and wore only a brown, very poor and torn up robe, had disappeared in another room. However, she returned quickly, appearing from the colorful curtain, which seemed to play the role of a door separating the two rooms. She silently rested her back to the moldy wall next to the curtain, as she waited her mistress to appear.

"Minister Frollo, to what I owe this honor of being granted with your presence," a woman who was still putting aside the curtain hissed with loud voice as she entered further the room. The sudden change of the cold silence startled the gypsy, as the tone of the other woman, a deep, croaking, but in the same time high voice made the frightened girl shiver. Esmeralda looked at the new comer in the room, who seemed to be the owner of the house and the one that the judge was looking for. She was not old, probably in her early thirties, but her posture and the way she walked made her look older and somewhat rather odd. She was skinny; her bony jutting shoulders were holding the loose, white, but with all variety of dirt spots dress, which was nothing like the usual ones. It was very open, almost completely revealing her breasts while she was moving; and as it was sleeveless, her skeletal arms were entirely bare. She wore a lot of wooden and metal jewelry of different colors and symbols around her neck and on both of her wrists and above her elbows. The loose, white cloth on her seemed mainly to hold on her because of the wide, oily rope carelessly tightened around her down waist, which on itself had a lot of herbs and other stuff tangled and hanged on it. Her face, neck, shoulders and arms were covered with black as a crow, long, straight, but thick hair, which was falling around in greasy straws. She had moved closer to her two visitors, and Esmeralda had the chance to see with the help of the many weak and smelly candles placed around the room that even though the woman reminded a gypsy healer, she was with a very pale, white skin. Her head was down, making her hunching her back, but her deep, coal black eyes were piercing through her locks of hair right through the minister.

"Amparo," Frollo drawled with authoritative, cold voice, "I believe it is unnecessary to remind you that the matter of my visit needs to stay confidential."

The thin, colorless lips of the woman stretched in something of a self pleasured, mocking smile.

"But you always do remind me, minister," she replied with the unchanged freezing high, husky voice sounding in the same time sardonic, greedy and joyful. It was still early in the morning as even here the bells of the cathedral were heard for the last time ringing before the beginning of the morning service. Amparo paused for a second, as her eyes playfully circled the room and another mocking smile escaped her lips. "However you have never before come to me in Sunday. What is the matter minister? Are the bells of "Our Lady" not ringing loud enough today, so to draw all their faithful servants in the legs of their worshipped one?"

"That is none of your concern," the minister stopped her sharply, as she shut up and satisfied herself only with a teasing look. However, after a moment of silence as Amparo studied with eyes the companion of the official, the thin, grey eyebrows of the woman lifted with pleasurable curiosity:

"Today's unusual, isn't it," she asked with the same joking gratification, as if knowing everything before everyone else. "I am having the sense, minister, that today we will play with a different toy," she smirked lustfully as she looked again the judge.

"Are you aware of why I am here," the judge asked her with formal voice, but still impatient. She hissed loudly- a high, mocking and wicked laugh that echoed around the small, shady room. Then she suddenly stopped, as she pierced her deep, ink black eyes into the minister, and bitted her downer lip, in the same time letting her lips spill into a libidinous smile:

"Minister, you might be distinguished from the rest of us with many things, but you are most certainly not the first man that had come to me with a girl." She paused, playfully enjoying the product of her words, as the minister remained unmoved, but the gypsy looked Amparo and after that Frollo, changing side between both of them in alarm.

"Then, are you capable of performing what I require of you, Amparo," the minister asked coldly, completely ignoring her expressions and the impudence of her words.

"It would cost you significantly more than our usual businesses," she smirked greedily.

Esmeralda glanced towards the minister again, as she wondered what possibly could be their usual "businesses." She wondered how Frollo could be even able to make a deal with a woman so controversial of everything that he preached as a "holy" and "Christian." How could he even put up with her words without sending her until now for at least one thousand times to the gallows?

"The price is of a small importance," Frollo replied coldly, seeming more and more determined to end up with this as quickly as he could. Amparo smiled pleased.

"And it would be very painful," she added examining their faces.

"It does not matter," Frollo automatically said. The woman hissed again. She turned this time to Esmeralda:

"Darling child, is that your first pregnancy," she asked with rather nice tone, but still husky and high.

"It is her first one," the minister answered without waiting the gypsy to have the chance of thinking what to reply.

Amparo bitted again her downer lip, as her big white teeth showed, and she looked again the official, lifting her grey eyebrow and smiling with pleasurably mocking surprise.

"For the first time, indeed?" The woman did not wait a reply of her teasing question; she turned again to the gypsy. "The beautiful Esmeralda- known truly only by one…"

"Watch your tongue, woman," the minister coldly interrupted her, making her put some control over her libidinous expressions. She looked at him with unmoved, bent down face, however her eyes pierced straight at him. But then her attention shifted again to the gypsy.

"How do you know my name," Esmeralda asked with curiosity, forgetting for a second her worries. Amparo put again the lustful smile on her face.

"But how could I not my dear, your name was all over the city- the famous Esmeralda; the supernatural dancer; the beautiful enchanter. Everyone knew you. They yelled "La Esmeralda" every time you appeared to dance for the pity of the watchers. However, I have not heard this yell recently, but before you danced on every street," she paused looking libidinously for a second to the minister and then back to her. "But recently I guess you have been dancing only in the minister's bedroom…"

"That is enough," Frollo said angrily with louder than usual voice, as the woman immediately shut up, looking at him obediently, but still having the pleasurable smirk on the corners of her lips. Esmeralda envied her ability to be able to annoy the minister just enough to get him out of control, but not enough to be beaten or sent in prison like the gypsy usually ended when she tried to oppose Frollo. "Proceed to your work now," the minister commanded to the woman. She smiled and she turned towards the fourteen year old girl which was still near the back wall as Amparo murmured with a tone that sounded more like a vicious curse than words:

"As you wish, minister, let us now work to clean up the mess from the fun." The woman made a gesture to the young girl, which made her move and went back to the other room behind the colorful curtain. Then Amparo turned again to her two guests: "My underling, Caridad, would prepare the room, please have patience for a few more minutes." She silenced for a moment as her eyes playfully moved from the minister to the gypsy, observing carefully their cold, apathetic expressions, which were now looking in opposite directions. After a few moments she interrupted the awkward stillness, as she laughed loudly and inappropriately and said with her high, mocking voice: "But I completely left my manners in the other room, please to forgive my unintentional ignorance. Please, have a seat," she said as she rather dexterously crossed the room and started pushing on the floor the variety of stuffs that were laid on two chairs near the door.

"That would not be necessary," the minister said coldly. Amparo stopped for a second, looking at his authoritative, but tired expression, than without moving her eyes from him she pushed the rest of the things from the second wooden chair and turned to Esmeralda.

"But perhaps you would like a seat, my precious; you seem rather tired, are you not?

The gypsy snapped from her stare of the colorful curtain, where she had seen the young girl disappear and had been listening since then the noises from arranging that were coming from there. She looked at Amparo, who was piercing her with her two deep, black eyes, but which at the same time were strangely giving her comfort. She glanced for a second at the minister, as if expecting him to answer for her, but he seemed to have let her choose for herself.

"Yes, thank you," she said after she had finally comprehended the question and decided that it was better to do the exact opposite of the judge when given the opportunity. She slowly passed Frollo and sat on the old, squeaking chair. The minister did not even seem to notice her, his attention was drifted in the millions of screaming doubts in his mind. Amparo sat on the other chair, as she observed for a second the anxious and hovered eyes of Frollo and then looked to the gypsy next to her.

"She is indeed beautiful, isn't she," she asked as her mischievous eyes looked at the minister. He did not seem to have heard her. "And not only for her kind," Amparo continued undisturbed. Her eyes moved from the one to the other guest, "yes, she is definitely so much more than any other gypsy."

"Do you have anything against gypsies," Esmeralda interrupted, as she lifted her eyes from the floor and directed them to the woman. The voice of the gypsy attracted the attention of the judge, as he looked at her suspiciously, but did not do anything more. Amparo hissed entertained:

"And why would you ask such a thing, darling magnificence?"

Esmeralda hesitated for a moment, but then said with lower voice as she looked down to her hands.

"Because you work for him."

Amparo laughed noisily, piercing the stillness that was in the room. She looked amused to the minister, who was still staring at the gypsy.

"Gorgeous beauty, I work for everyone that can afford me," the woman started as she had succeeded to control her laughter. "The life, perhaps, had determined to be so that those who are dressed in pale would be my customers and not those who wear dark. For me the color is of no significance, but the weight of their purse. I am even beholding gratitude to some of your kind; it thought me to some of my practices and my father was a gypsy after all."

Esmeralda looked at her surprised. How could she act so indifferent to her people; to be grateful at them, but to betray them at the same time? Amparo smirked joyfully, as she had understood all of her wonderings just by looking at the gypsy's eyes.

"You see, my father once had entertained himself with a girl from the other kind- a white; blond; not more than fifteen, girl," Amparo started with quite, husky, but still piercing voice. "Of course, these amusements always have a tragic ending," she grunted noisily, as she mockingly glanced for a second towards the minister with surreptitious look, but then she turned again to the gypsy. "The gypsy who raped my mother was hanged three days after the incident, but he did not leave her without a gift," she laughed. "The blond girl, whose name was Bénédicte, died during my birth. I was taken under the protection of the doctor that was helping her to bring me into this world, where I served him for the first thirteen years of my life. The medicine of the white man thought me a lot, but you see my "pagan" blood did not play nice with all their customs, so I did not stay long there," she paused looking again to the minister and then back to the gypsy. "The two cultures could have helped themselves a lot if they were not meant for the destruction of one another. But I, my precious one, I do not care for the opposite colors- the only color that I care about is the silver one," she laughed loudly as she noticed that her fourteen year old servant had returned from the other room. "But now, my rare splendor, you should not worry on which side I am, but for the pain that you would experience just in a moment."

Esmeralda looked at her in alarm and incomprehensiveness.

"Poor beauty," Amparo said rather sympathizing, "to get it out of you would be far less pleasurable than when it was put in."

"Is that what you are going to do to me," the gypsy asked as if she had realized it just now.

Amparo looked with surprised mock the minister.

"You have not even told her? What if she minds," she asked with her usual provoking pleasure, but with note of seriousness in her tone as well.

"You do not serve her, you serve me," Frollo reminded coldly, looking straight at Amparo's black, piercing eyes. He could not lay his stare to the gypsy; he felt that he would not find the strengths for this if he did look at her. Amparo impudently examined his expression and then took Esmeralda firmly by the hand as she stood up and gently pulled her to do the same. Esmeralda was looking at the floor, but as she was led to the colorful curtain she suddenly lifted her face and made fast steps to catch up with the other woman. "Wait," the minister suddenly commanded as they had reached the curtain.

"What's the matter, minister? Do you have doubts what service do you want," Amparo said impudently, as her head was respectfully bent down, but her eyes were accusingly piercing the motionless expressions of the judge.

"How could I know that you would not let her escape," the minister asked viciously after a brief pause, as he ignored her question. Amparo's colorless lips stretched into a fake smile, as she lifted her grey eyebrows and said:

"There is no windows or doors back, minister- no one is supposed to attend what is happening there- but if my word is not enough then I guess you could always threat to take my insignificant existence if I do not succeed to guard the toy." She looked the minister maliciously.

"Proceed then," he said with ice cold voice, as before they disappeared he saw for the last time the face of Esmeralda and a single tear going all the way down her cheek and making a miniature wet spot on her green dress.

_**"SHE**_ screamed a lot," the judge remarked as Amparo had finally returned from the other room and had approached the minister.

"Yes, she did," the other woman confirmed automatically. Her eyes and smile were still having its playful and libidinous expression, but they were far more controlled and rarer than before. "Caridad assists her to put herself in order for leaving- it should not take long. Her body is very young and the stress that it was put through was too great for it- she would not stop bleeding for a while. She would be better to be left to rest for a couple of weeks," Amparo stopped and examined the unmoved eyes of the minister, who were however concentrated at the empty space before him, "and it would be wise if you do not bed her during the time she is recovering." The minister looked at the woman guardedly, but did not say anything more. After a pause Amparo added: "She is too young, usually when aborting a child at that age the chances to have another are highly doubtful." Another long pause followed.

"Good, that was what I wanted to hear," the minister said mechanically. "You did a good job, here are your money," he passed her a purse full with ringing silver coins, which she took.

Amparo stared at it for a moment, as they both remained silent. Finally, her dark eyes pierced back at him and she said with mocking, sour smile:

"She is indeed beautiful; the creation would have been rather pretty."

"Nothing positive could have come out from sins," Frollo said with bitterness in his voice.

"Love is not a sin," Amparo objected spilling her lustful smile along her pale face. The minister looked at her coldly.

"I do not love her," he returned viciously.

"Perhaps no, but you care enough for her for not just killing her- it would have been a lot much easier and most certainly less expensive," the woman said with husky voice.

"I am just not ready for not having her," the minister said with unchanged tone.

"But is that not love," Amparo grunted teasingly as at the same time the curtain opened.

The young servant girl walked in first followed by Esmeralda who was entirely laying her body upon Caridad. Her face looked red and wet, there could be seen spots of blood on her dress and she seemed barely capable of walking. Gradually they reached the others, with lots of suppressed painful expressions of the gypsy who did not wanted to show her weakness even though it was more than obvious. Esmeralda succeeded of supporting herself to a wooden table nearby as Caridad slowly removed her from herself letting her to be supported by the old furniture. The gypsy dropped exhaustedly her head down, facing the floor, and started breathing heavily, compensating for the lost air that she had experienced while trying to walk that distance. The others stayed stilled for a while and after it seemed she had succeeded to catch up her breaths, Frollo approached her taking her carefully by the arm ready to walk her outside the house. She suddenly jumped, gathering all her left strength and weakly pushed him off her. She looked him spitefully with her green, tortured eyes under her knitted dark eyebrows, and with curved lips expressing great disgust. He observed her unmoved as she slowly succeeded to push herself from the table, barely managing to balance herself and made an unsuccessful attempt to make a step. She collapsed back on the furniture grabbing it tightly to succeed of not falling completely on the floor.

"Do not be foolish, child," Amparo commanded, stressing more on the seriousness of her voice, "you can barely stand on your feet. Do not deny a support without which you cannot move."

Esmeralda looked strangely the woman, but put her head down after that, giving in her defense. Frollo approached her again with the same cold indifference as he firmly held her giving her far stronger support than the fourteen year old girl. He almost carried her to the way out and to the carriage, where he carefully put her to lay comfortably as much as she could. Not long after that the carriage got under way and the gypsy felt how her mind was gradually drifting away into sleep, abandoning her weak body.

_**IT HAD**_ become already dark when they arrived back at the house. Esmeralda had fight to stay awake as much as she could during the way, but she was giving in more and more, so when they had finally stopped she was half awoke half asleep. She felt strong arms going under her head and knees, and after a second it seemed to her as if she was floating into the air. The door of the house was opened by Paulette, who despite of the late hour was not asleep yet. Corrine was as well there as they both observed the minister coming in and carrying in his arms the exhausted gypsy. Esmeralda seemed not completely responsive, but she was surely not completely unconscious either. Perhaps she knew what was happening around her; perhaps she knew that she had let herself in the arms of the person who just moments ago she was determined never to let touch her again; perhaps she just did not have the strength or the choice to object him, but nevertheless, she had let herself being carried.

The servants walked before them with candles as they climbed up the stairs and the minister made them a sign to open the guestroom next to his. Corrine opened it, discretely changing a quick look with the other servant, as she pushed the door and made way to the minister to enter with the gypsy. They stayed on the door as he cautiously put her into the bed and as he made sure that she was still pretty inactive he turned to the two maids. He ordered them to take her night gown from his bedroom and to change her, as he stressed to them to be very careful with her. They did as told and while they were dressing her he waited outside the room, fixed his eyes in the empty darkness. Esmeralda did not seem to object the servants, who quickly changed her, taking the dirty green dress off her and putting on her the white night gown. They carefully covered her with the soft, fresh blanket and sheets. When they were on their way out the minister told them to take the dress with them and to make sure to be cleaned and ready for her when she wakes up in the morning. They nodded in conformation and left, leaving the one burning candle with Frollo and taking the other to light their way downstairs. The minister stood up on the exit staring at the gypsy for a while, as the candle flame was playfully moving creating the sense of many creeping shadows on the walls. Esmeralda suddenly turned aside, facing the wall opposite to the door.

"Esmeralda," the minister murmured into the darkness, as he sighed heavily, "I am sorry."

The gypsy was conscious enough to hear him, as she opened her closed eyes, gradually seeing how the light behind her disappeared as the door closed and she attended the fading away steps of the minister. She blinked several times focusing on the darkness before she closed them again in exhaustion. While she was finally surrendering into the so needed sleep one thought was staying with her- _He did not lock the door. _


	10. Abstinence

_**Vices and Virtues**_

Abstinence:

_**Frollo**__ opened his eyes suddenly piercing them at the darkness in front of him. Gradually as he became used to the night, he was able to recognize the silhouettes of the objects surrounding him. He removed the cover from him and pulled himself towards the side of the bed and sat there. His bare feet touched the cold floor, but he did not seem to bother. For a moment he stared absent- mindedly in front of him to the door, and then he suddenly turned and looked towards the empty bed. He had not been having a good sleep for days and he was not able to sleep well this night, too. He suddenly stood up and went to the small table in front of the bed and lighted a candle. He looked towards the door again- there was nothing there. Everything around looked peaceful- the door, the bed, the room- it was disturbed only by the moving shades from the candle light. However something was drawing him to the door and he did not wish to fight that urge. When he exited his bedroom he had just now realized that he was already dressed with his daily black gown, pants and shoes. The corridor looked empty, silent and cold. The entire house was in complete darkness and peace. The minister walked mechanically, passing the doors around him. He got down the stairs and proceeded further through the living room in another corridor. He was walking as if in absolute trance, but he seemed to know the way and where he wanted to go. He opened another door as he found himself in the library in his house. _

_The room was big, full with rows of shelves loaded with books, and everything looked in its order. However it seemed to the minister as if there was a cold wind passing through the entire space. He went further in the library, as he lighted with the candle that he was holding the labels of the sections. He stopped himself in the second row as he read before it the words "Catholic Literature." He proceeded further in the corridor between the two rows, as it seemed getting longer and longer. The fire from the candle suddenly was put off by the wind, but the minister could still see well the things around thanks to the moonlight that was coming from a large window and it seemed to light exactly the way before him. Frollo noticed a figure standing still at the end of the section and he mechanically walked to it. As closer as he was getting he was becoming more and more certain that the standing figure was of the gypsy. _

_Now he was just a few steps away from her. She did not seem to notice him. Around her there were several piles of books, put carelessly on one another. Esmeralda was with her back to him, as she seemed fixed her entire attention on a book in her hands. It was an old, big and heavy book, and she had turned it on a page with a picture that Frollo could not clearly see or recognize. The gypsy's black hair was freely falling on her shoulders, and the girl was only with her white night gown. She suddenly dropped the book in front of her and turned, piercing her green and big eyes straight at the minister. Frollo was motionlessly looking at her as well. He wondered what she was doing here, why somehow he expected her to be here, and why she was acting so strange. Everything was in complete stillness and peace for a while, as suddenly the soft voice of the gypsy destroyed the silence. _

"_I am cold," she whispered as her words echoed around the big room. She moved a few steps towards Frollo as now she was so close to him that he could almost taste her. Her head was circling slowly, looking at one time down to his body at the next up to his eyes. She was breathing deeply and heavy. The minister observed how her chest was slowly filling up with air and then emptying it. He reached with his hand to her face but she abruptly turned her back to the one side of the book shelves. She was still observing him intensely when she pulled a few steps away from him, as her back was now supported by the bookshelf behind. The minister carefully observed her. The moonlight was now lightening her entire body. She put her head back, facing the ceiling, as her body curved, letting her chest emerged in front. The minister's eyes slid pleasurably along her dress- the night gown seemed loosely to outline the gypsy's figure, as the robe was transparent enough to let Frollo enjoy everything beneath it. In that moment her breasts seemed completely bursting as the gypsy was now delightfully rubbing her head and shoulders onto the shelf behind, letting her arms randomly stretch around her. She was breathing heavy as her hands went on her thighs and slowly started to slide up to her body along her stomach, ribs and breasts. Frollo came closer to her as he observed with fire in his eyes how her delicate fingers rubbed her nipples, which the gown did poor to cover. She sensed him as he was now standing very close in front of her, and she opened her just a moment ago closed in satisfying trance eyes. The enchanting light seemed to have made the color of her eyes even deeper shade of dark green, as the minster felt drowning in them._

"_I am cold," she repeated as she breathed deeply surrounding her breasts with her arms and turning her head aside. She huddled in herself as she closed her eyes and let her arms fall down her body. Frollo looked down at them, as her hands were now gathering the white, transparent cloth, revealing more and more of her legs. When the cloth finished she folded her arms, exposing more and more of her flesh, and swiftly pulled the rest of her gown up and through her head, remaining completely naked. She tossed the gown aside as she closed her eyes. Esmeralda started slowly to rub in ecstatic movements her head, arms, and back onto the bookshelf behind her. Frollo trembled, not able to restrain himself- he could almost feel the so closed elated motions of her naked body, he reached to her for a second time. She suddenly slid down, escaping his touch, as she huddled in a ball down before his feet. He looked down to her, as the silver moonlights fell on her bronze skin. He came down, kneeling in front of her and just now he realized that she was freezing and trembling. _

_This time his hand moved quickly and he succeeded to grab her arm- her skin was surprisingly warm. She looked at him in alarm, but did not do anything further. This encouraged the minister, who gently pushed her arm aside, taking and doing the same with the other. Esmeralda did not resist none of this, and after her folded legs before her were free from her hug, she started stretching them aside, leaving the minister between them. He advanced closer to her, as he felt her soft arms surrounding him. Esmeralda pulled him even closer, as her legs now were around him. Frollo breathed in delight, feeling her all desperately grabbed in him, and started hungrily to kiss her dark skin. She moaned in ecstasy when his firm hands pulled her and one of them slid across her breast, excitedly rubbing it. Her fingers dexterously unbuttoned his gown and opened it, as the pale chest of the minister completely contrasted with his dark clothes. Esmeralda started heavily to groan, as her delightful screams echoed noisily around the empty room. The minister felt growing harder, as he eagerly grabbed her down the waist and positioned her closer to his throbbing member. She pressed herself closer to him, as her fingers pleasurably went through his silver hair. She leaned her head to his, delicately rubbing her cheek in his, and lightly touching her tongue on his ear. Her moans had stopped. She breathed heavily into his ear._

"_Look what you've done," she whispered with strange, echoing voice. Then she suddenly pulled from him, looking at his eyes with panic. "I am cold," she said as her sexual desire seemed to have disappeared and to have been replaced with fear._

_She pushed him weakly, as she turned, falling aside on her front body. She started crawling; pulling her arms with great effort one after another, as it seemed she had suddenly been completely smashed. Frollo grabbed her firmly by the leg, not letting her to move further, as she started sobbing and screaming in terror. She tried reaching a further distance, as her stomach, breasts, and elbows were rubbing helplessly into the red carpet beneath her. The minister was stronger than her; he got on her with his body, as now she was not able even to move. She started frantically to spread her arms randomly in front of her, pushing the piles of books that were around her, as they noisily hit the ground. Her screams were becoming more and more piercing. Frollo tried with one hand to contain her random motions, as with the other he roughly pushed her legs aside, positioning himself between them. His ache for processing her was becoming greater and greater, as he was feeling the struggles of her warm, naked body beneath him. He breathed heavily, trying to compensate for the lost air while restraining her. The pain between his legs had become intolerable; he felt that he would explode if he did not release it immediately; he needed the gypsy and he needed her at this very instance. His hand reached to his pants, but it was pushed by the struggling body of the gypsy, which was so close underneath him. His other hand grabbed her by the neck and uncontrollably hit her to the floor. The hand that was pushed aside roughly slid between her legs, as his cold fingers started to feel her tightened genitals. He pushed harshly one of his fingers inside of her, as she loudly screamed. He put two more in her, eagerly exploring her warmth inside, as her screams increased, but were mingled with yells of terror and pleasure. She was not struggling anymore, as her head sunk into the carpet, quieting the noise of her screams. Frollo suddenly stopped. When she had moved her head, the minister noticed the book, which was next to her- the same book that she was holding when he saw her. Now he could clearly see the picture that the gypsy was studying so thoroughly. On the top of it there were saints seated as the ones in the Notre Dame cathedral, as in the one side there was placed the Holy Virgin. Her face, arms and dress were covered with blood, which was dropping all the way down the picture. However, there it seemed it had transformed into fire, which peasants seemed to carry to a pyre. On the pyre a person was burning, as the flames which were surrounding him were transformed into shadows of demons, which were eating from his flesh. Frollo with horror saw that that person was him and the empty stare of the Blessed Virgin was dooming his soul for eternal sufferings. _

_The judge unconsciously had loosed his grip from the gypsy, as she used his moment of shock to push him off her. He fell aside on his back, as Esmeralda turned on her back as well next to him. Frollo was still in shock as he sensed the moving gypsy next to him. Now she was on her back, staring at the ceiling, as her breaths had increased, transforming more and more into moans. Her legs started to move around in erotic motions, as they were rubbing into the red carpet. Her knees were folding and stretching her legs, joining and separating them, as her entire body became shaking overjoyed. She became screaming with pleasure louder and louder, as her hands clutched into whatever she could first reach to hold. Her moves had become greater and more apparent, as her naked body was now rhythmically curving itself into sexual pleasure. Suddenly she folded and opened her legs aside, as her moans did not sounded joyful anymore. Her body was expressing painful, jerking motions, as her screams reminded, to the minister, the ones that he had heard when he sent her to terminate her pregnancy. A large drops of sweat started sliding across her face, as her shouts were becoming more and more deafening. She could barely breathe anymore, uncontrollably shaking in pain. Frollo automatically grabbed her arms, trying to relieve her jerking motions and to help her calm down. She pushed him with incredible strength, as he fell again on his back, but this time the gypsy followed him. She laid above him, as her dark skin touched the pale one on his chest. She was not screaming anymore. Her green eyes pierced at his, as she swiftly slide her body down to his. _

_Esmeralda was now gathered above his feet, as she slowly started to climb back up, rubbing her naked body onto his pants. Her hands traced his legs, starting from his ankles, slipping them back along his calves, massaging his knees and sliding them delicately across his thighs. Frollo gasped in delight as her fingers approached his manhood, but she pulled them aside, firmly grabbing his hips. He felt as her fingers clutched harder into him and moaned with pleasure. Her body had been slowly going up and had kept up with her hands, as her breasts were now pressed around his knees and her head was just below his already arising member. She slowly rubbed her head upper, making sluggish and circling motions around his genitals. Her soft dark skin and her moistened lips became warmer by the friction with the dark cloth of the pants. The minister was becoming more and more impatient. His breathes had increased as he put a great effort not to finish before he had even got the chance to get inside her. Esmeralda stopped her circles as her eyes libidinously looked towards him. He had stretched his head back, staring blindly the ceiling and completely surrendered in the sensations that she was giving him. She gradually lifted her head from his lap and slowly moved it forwards, climbing a little bit further to him. Her chin lightly touched his already fully hardened member as she passed through it. She got on her knees and hands, as she reached his chest and hungrily approached it. Her moistened lips sluggishly slid along his skin, as she folded her arms, getting on her elbows and still being on her knees. He trembled with pleasure as his chest was deeply inhaling and exhaling air. She stopped on his stomach, where his pants started. She pressed her tongue on his skin, and started teasingly to circle around his pants. She pulled it further as she slid it under the black cloth, making the minister gasp in ecstasy feeling the cool moist of her tongue. She played like that for a while, as she suddenly rested her entire head on his stomach. She was still very warm. Her hands made their way to his stomach as well, as they opened more of his gown. The gypsy firmly clutched her fingers into his pants and pulled them down enough to reveal his manhood. Then she lifted herself, kneeling as he was between her legs. _

"_Why my Hell is on Earth," she asked with cold and freezing whisper, as her eyes were pierced at the ones of Frollo. She did not waited for an answer, she thirsted herself on his hardened and throbbing member, giving him the so longing moment of pleasure. They both gasped, as the minister pushed deeper in her. Esmeralda stretched her back, curving it in pleasure backwards and emerging her breasts in front. She rhythmically started to bounce on him, pushing him more and more to the floor. His hands had reached her legs, as he uncontrollably held on them, getting as much flesh from her as he could. He was insatiable, roughly pushing his hands upper and upper along her curved, euphoric body. He wanted to consume her entire naked flesh. She suddenly grabbed his wrists pulling his hands to her breasts and pressing them harder to them. She became faster and faster, as her hands dropped down aside him on the floor, in order to balance her better. Her hips pushed him harder and harder, hungrier and hungrier, becoming more and more to resemble his own ways with her. Her entire body was covered with sweat, her dark hair was falling in locks before her face and her roars of pleasure were getting louder. She frantically took again his hands and pinned them to the floor above his head. Esmeralda became more and more lustful, possessing the incontrollable desire of the minister to her; however Frollo did not seem to mind. His joy was overflowing, as he had entirely given in her rough and harsh motions, which were causing him both pain and incredible pleasure. He felt completely lost in her. The friction between them had warmed up his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter. Her moans were overstepping, as she was now wildly riding him, looking straight at his eyes, but as if she was not caring for anything else despite the received joy. _

_The minister felt conquered, defeated, and weak underneath her insatiable lust, but he wanted her more than ever- he wanted her to do this with him more than anything else. He groaned loud, feeling the emerging of the ultimate bliss. He shoved his penis deeper and harsher into her, and she screamed joyously, as if lost her all senses in that indescribable gratification. She returned him with the same burning roughness, as they thirsted again and again in themselves, draining the last drop of pleasure from their bodies. Frollo felt the hot liquid spurting out of him into her moistened inside. She rapidly pulled off him, leaving some of the sperm to spill on his thigh, as he felt its sticky texture. Her green eyes pierced at his._

"_Why did you touch me," she whispered with miserable and crying voice. The minister looked at her in confusion, as in his head millions of her pleadings, begging him to stop, curses and his own mocking laughter screamed at the same time. He felt as if his head would explode, only that the voices were not anymore in his mind, but everywhere, surrounding him, laughing at him, accusing and condemning him to the eternal hellfire of misery._

_**FROLLO**_ opened his eyes, as drops of sweat had started sliding across his forehead. He rapidly stood up in his bed, realizing it was morning. From his opened window the shouting and the laughter from outside were coming into the room. The sticky wet feeling between his legs made him mechanically remove the cover, revealing the still warm spots of sperm on his night gown and white sheets. He frantically got up and went to clean himself and change in his daily clothes.

The dream that he had was not the first odd one, which had happened to him recently, and it was not the first one that had left his sheets with stains on them. It had been passed more than three weeks since the minister had taken the gypsy to that strange house and woman, and had terminated her pregnancy. Since then Esmeralda was sleeping in the guestroom, in which Frollo had put her when they got back from Amparo. She was ordered to stay in most of the time in the bed, but she did not really need a command to do that. The first week she was too weak to do anything but lay there, barely eat and sleep, but gradually her strengths had started to return. At the end of the second week she was as usually- locked and bored in the room, which did not even had shelves with books as in the minister's bedroom. Sometimes she was eating downstairs with Frollo, but the minister rarely called for her. He was not coming too often in her bedroom, but he was constantly asking the servants in what health she was. The gypsy on the other hand was trying her best to look as bad as she could before him, trying to extent her time away from him as much as she could. After a lot of pleads and threats, the gypsy was again allowed to leave her room when supervised by one of the maids, but only when the exits to outside of the house were locked. Frollo seemed as usually severe to her, but the only fact that he had let her outside a single room was prove that he was becoming softer to the gypsy. He knew that and he blamed his newly rediscovered abstinence for it, which he seemed to tolerate less and less. He had not tried to do anything to the gypsy yet- partly because he wanted her to recover, partly because he was scared that this might repeat again- but his lonely nights were becoming more and more unbearable. He had even started to see her rarer and rarer, afraid that if he did he might either ravish her to death, or fell in her feet and beg her for forgiveness.

Frollo had completely dressed up, as he took his hat in his hand and left his bedroom. As he stepped in the corridor he quickly glanced to the door leading to the gypsy's room, but he put a great effort to restrain himself from entering. He was already late for his daily duties, and his dream still had a controversial influence over him. He decided to visit her later when he was back- he was always leaving the house with that thought, but his guilt or his reminding that she was still weak was always stopping him to proceed to the end of what was constantly in his mind and what was appearing even in his dreams. He sighed heavily and headed downstairs.

_**WHEN**_ the minister returned back from work it was already dark. The situation with the civil riots, the constant burning of gypsies and the fight to contain them out of the city had not become any easier. There was as well many of them on the streets- the ones that were not captured when the judge had found the Court of Miracles because they had been elsewhere. Now they were wandering around Paris making tricks, begging and steeling from the people as they were more than ever poor and homeless. And even though that was not what was constantly in Frollo's mind he was more than obligated to put his entire efforts to deal with it. That sometimes distracted him from his burning, bursting and torturing him thoughts of the gypsy, other times his desires were greatly stopping him from concentrating on what was the present problem.

The house looked as usual- big, clean, dark and rather empty. He proceeded to upstairs, determined to end up the agonizing abstinence once and for all. When he was just steps away from the door of the gypsy's bedroom, it suddenly opened and Corrine emerged from it. As soon as the maid noticed Frollo she respectfully bowed, remaining with her head down.

"How is she," the minister asked coldly.

"She looks rather fine, sir," the servant replied. She knew pretty well that the gypsy was trying as much as she could to conceal her well being from Frollo, but even though the maid did not want Esmeralda to get into any trouble, she did not think herself capable of lying the minister.

"Good," the judge replied dryly. "You may take your leave now."

"Yes, sir, but I have to return back and help her…," Corrine said bowing even lower.

"That will not be necessary," Frollo sharply interrupted and added with his usual freezing voice: "Make sure no one to disturb me or her for the rest of the night."

"As you order, minister," the maid said not separating her eyes from the floor and after that headed downstairs.

Frollo stared for a second the wooden door. He found himself trembling and immediately scolded himself for that weakness. He had to stay strong and determined, he needed to put himself in order, or otherwise he knew that he would not have his way. He opened the door rapidly and entered the room.

"Oh, Corrine, you returned really fast…" Esmeralda started, but stopped in panic as she saw that at the door it was not the maid, but the minister.

For a great surprise of the judge, the gypsy was standing in the middle of the room, soaking wet, and now nervously trying to cover her naked wet body with a white sheet that was just a moment ago loosely put on her. Frollo watched in some kind of trance while she had backed a few steps behind, and had completely huddled into the white sheet, making sure that her shoulders, feet and even fingers were not to be seen. From the moment she saw the minister her head automatically dropped down, trying really hard to avoid his stare. Water drops had started coming down from her now even dark, wet hair, as the floor and the sheet were absorbing them.

"I didn't think it was you," the gypsy said dully after a moment of awkward silence, as the judge did not appear to plan to start any conversation. Her words seemed to have snapped him out of his carefully studied view, as he looked to her face. He did not answer her; he just advanced further to her, making her back a few more steps away, but eventually bumping to a desk behind her and stopping. Frollo stopped before her, still leaving her some private space.

"You are wet," he, on his turn, stated pointlessly, as his eyes were again libidinously consuming every part of the white sheet on her. His mind involuntary wondered how hard it would be to pull this thing off her.

"Yes," she answered immediately, which however did not seem to draw his attention entirely. "I… Corrine- she offered me to take a bath… to wash up the dried blood… well I guess I needed it…" Esmeralda stuttered, trying to think a way of withdrawing from this awkward position.

Frollo's thoughts had completely taken him over, and he seemed to hear her words somewhat in a distance. _He imagined how he would approach her and would take her firmly by the shoulders. In an instance he would throw her to the bed, as she would lose the hold of the already wet sheet on her, letting it carelessly cover her when she fell on her back on the bed._

The minister looked at her, realizing that had passed a long time since she had stopped talking.

"Was it your first," he asked with his usual cold voice.

"What," she asked, confused and scared, pushing herself harder to the desk behind her. "What are you talking about?"

Immediately after he had looked at her, he was again busy staring at her body as his imagination progressed further. _When her naked body would touch the bed, the cold drops would be gradually absorbed by the bed sheets. The pillow would become instantly wet from the gypsy's hair, which would be also stick along her dark skin occasionally on her cheeks, neck and shoulders._

"Bathing," he drawled still consumed by her body, and hearing in a distance her worried confusion. This time their eyes met, as he added, "was it the first time you took a bath."

"Oh, yeah," she answered, feeling stupid of overreacting, "there is no actually a bathtubs on the streets." However, the gypsy had noticed the persisted stare of the minister, and she was becoming more and more certain where all this would lead.

"Did you like it," he said with the same cold and distracted voice. Esmeralda looked the floor again, not able to look at his eyes any further.

"No," she replied quietly, "it was too wet, cold and it left me trembling." There was another pause.

Frollo's eyes were again blindly staring at her, as his mind continued drawing lustful pictures for his delight. _He would slowly advance to her, observing her trembling, wet body- so desperately surrendered between the wet white sheets. He would hastily open his gown, tossing it aside, remaining only with his pants, as he would get on the bed, in her feet. He would slid his fingers across her wet legs, as he would very slowly and gradually remove from his way the white sheet, which she was holding before, but which now was just loosely covering her. She would shiver from the cold, as he would then press his burning lips on her leg covered with water drops, feeling its fresh cold. He would slowly slide his tongue along, consuming the remained cool drops of water from her. _

"And the whole bathing thing weakened me even more," Esmeralda added in alarm after she saw with horror the libidinous expression of the minister. "I am feeling very bad; I even don't think that my legs would hold me any longer."

Frollo looked at her disbelieving, as he smirked coldly.

"Then you better sit," he suggested, sounding more like a command, "or even better- why do you not lay on the bed so you could have a good rest?"

Esmeralda shivered. She knew that she could not escape him forever, but she desperately needed to try harder. Her eyes hastily scanned the room, searching for a chair, but the minister had pretty much restricted her way only to the bed. She looked at him once more, knowing that he would not step aside to let her pass him and sit on a chair, and that if she did not do anything, he would just drag her to the bed and once having his hands on her he would not restrain himself only with it. She slowly walked to the bed and set on its edge. Frollo made several steps to her, still standing on his feet before her.

_Then, when his lips and tongue had reached her thigh, he would pull back from her, removing the rest of the covering her sheet. She would tremble, feeling the cold water on her. The minister would then go over her, pressing her naked, vulnerable body, with his, and blissfully cooling the burning fire in his skin with hers. He would slowly remove the sticky locks of hair from her shoulders, neck, and face, pleasurably putting a passionate kiss on every freed part. Then he would reach to her lips, pushing his tongue deep in her mouth, and consuming the entire fresh, cool moist from it. The water on her would be no longer cold, but warm; hot. His aching member, yearning so desperately for the warmth inside of her, would then be released and the minister would finally have the chance to conquer her again. Their bodies would start twisting in uncontrollable and pleasurable convulsive movements, feeling the warm moist all over their skins. The sensations, the cold, the hot, the agony, and the pleasure would all mingle in one eternal delight and…._

The minister did not have control over his erecting member anymore. The only thought of having her had made him arouse, and he knew that he did care anymore neither for her health, nor for her feelings. He made a few more determined steps to her, as he was now standing just before her. He reached to touch her.

"Wait," the gypsy said dully knowing that she cannot do much to stop him. With panic she had observed his fiery eyes, watching her persistently for a while and the emerging of the gown between his legs. However he stopped. "I am not well… I mean," she started stuttering not knowing really what excuse to use this time, now when it looked like she had actually drawn his attention. "I am still feeling pain down… and I still bleed since that Sunday…," her eyes were fixed down to the floor, and her words were sounding very indecisive and full with embarrassment.

Frollo pierced his eyes at her bowed head, staring at her for a moment, as if trying to figure something out. His hands were clenched into fists, and he gnashed his teeth in frustration. However, when he finally said something, his voice was sounding rather patient and unmoved.

"But of course, it is not in my intention to make you feel… uncomfortable. I am a patient man, I am able to wait a few more days," he said with fake grin, as his fists tightened even more. He headed to the exit, leaving to the wet gypsy some privacy to dress herself. When he opened the door he took a key from his pocket and put it in the locker. Before he left, he looked one more time the huddled and bent girl at the edge of the bed, who seemed not to even dare to breathe now. "But remember, Esmeralda," he drawled coldly, "even a patient man can lose its tolerance." He smashed the door with great force and rage, locking it angrily behind. Esmeralda breathed heavily several times, as if still trying to believe what had just happened. Before the minister had never taken into consideration her words, so what had changed now? She did not really wanted to think for that, she knew it would not last long, but as long as she could still lie to him for her condition she was determined to persist on it.

_**SINCE**_ that day four more days had passed. However the minister had not tried to have the gypsy again. The days had passed as he was constantly occupying himself with work- with the riots, with judicial matters, with the interrogations and the torturing of prisoners in the dungeons- anything that could possibly draw his attention away from the already intolerable abstinence. However the things in his work, which had before fulfilled him with meaning and passions, were sounding so hallow now when his new desires had been so severely restricted. He was not even seeing the gypsy these days, he was going very early to work and was coming back after midnight. His nights had not become easier so he was not minding avoiding sleep and the persisting half erotic/ half filled with guilt dreams, which he had whenever he closed his eyes. He was becoming more and more negligent in his appearance- his silver hairs were falling in disorder, he had very dark and apparent circles under his eyes and he seemed to have become paler than ever.

In Friday, however, he had returned significantly earlier than usual. It was still bright outside, and it was not even became time for dinner. When he entered the house he saw Paulette, one of his maids, in the living room dusting the furniture there and arranging the stuff around. When she noticed him she respectfully bowed and mechanically went to him, waiting if he needed anything from her.

"Where is she," was the first words of the minister. Even though he had not seen the gypsy these days he always inquired a detailed report from the servants, explaining what she had done during the day, and if she had been out her room with whom she had been, and whether she had tried a second attempt for escaping.

"She is in the kitchen with Corrine, minister," the maid returned automatically. She was surprised to see the minister so early in the day, but she knew better not to question anything that the judge was doing.

"Very well then, you may continue your work now," he drawled absent- mindedly as he headed to the kitchen.

The door of the kitchen was opened when the minister approached it. He did not seem to be noticed by the two women inside. Frollo's eyes immediately fell on the gypsy, who was as usually wearing the green dress that the servant had given her. The two women were both sitting in big, wooden chairs near the table, which was full with meat, herbs and other stuff on it, but neither of them was directed to it. Instead the chairs were turned to one another; there were two pots between them, as it was appearing the one was full with fresh onions and the other with water. Corrine was taking the vegetable, cutting its knobbed ends off, peeling off the papery brown skin, and putting it in the pot with water. She was talking to the gypsy for events of her daily life, outside her work, which were of no importance to the minister. However, for his great surprise he saw the gypsy as well holding a small knife, similar to the one in the hands of the servant, and was as well assisting her in the peeling of the onions.

"You do not really have to do that, Esmeralda," the minister overheard the maid saying to the gypsy.

"I know, but I don't want only to sit here and watch you work," Esmeralda objected softly, "It doesn't feel right. And helping you also reminds me for the time when I was free and was able to work- it's funny how the work and the streets can miss you so much," she said with sorrow in her voice. "Anyway, tell me more about your home- you said that your younger brothers had started visiting school, right? I have always wondered what that feels like…"

Frollo observed the gypsy as she continued talking to the servant. She looked so bright, so happy, as if she had forgotten in an instant everything that the minister had done to her- or she was just really doing a great job of ignoring it. However her misery was not completely gone- even when she was smiling and laughing along with the maid whenever they were discussing something amusing, even then her eyes were expressing sorrow and pain.

An involuntary shiver ran through the minister as he was observing her like this, it reminded him for the first time when he saw her- so full of life, spirit and light. So enchanting… He wondered whether her expression would change in the second she see him. He could not restrain himself anymore, _he imagined going to her and the servant automatically disappearing, leaving him all alone with the gypsy._ _He would take the little knife in her hands, and of course she would resist it. He would slowly start sliding it along her neck and further down, making her feeling the cold metal on her. When he reached the dress he would shove the knife between her breasts and would abruptly cut through the gown, enjoying the delightful view of her bursting chest. He would playfully start circling the knife around her nipples, every time pressing a little more and more. Eventually, there would be a time when he would press deeper than usual and he would cut her, making her bleed. She would scream in pain and hatred, but it would be of little importance. He would forcefully push her, making her sit on the table, and in the same time the things on the table would start noisily to drop on the floor. When the table would be free, he would make her lay on it, roughly taking her legs into his hands and positioning himself between them. She would struggle, causing the wooden table to squeak and shake, but the minister would restrain her. He would cut with the knife the cloth of her skirt, destroying most of the dress and leaving the gypsy naked. Then, when she would be warm from the fight, and her hot blood would be coming out of the superficial cuts that would have been made during the struggle, in that moment, the minister would thrust in her, giving her the pleasure that she had always wanted. He would have her, he would conquer her, he would defeat her, and she would like it. _

The minister smirked libidinously. He had not realized when the blood in his veins had started to boil up and he was feeling again the so painfully familiar urge between his legs. No, he would not tolerate it anymore, he would not tolerate the devastating him abstinence. He would prove to the gypsy once and for all that he would not let her threat him like a fool anymore, that she was nothing and she better remembered it. He would not have a gypsy rule him and it was time to make that clear for her.

He noisily entered the room, startling both the servant and Esmeralda. Corrine immediately stood up, interrupting her conversation with the gypsy, and bowing her head respectfully to Frollo. 

"Minister Frollo, I did not notice when…"

"Leave us," he said coldly and impatiently. The girl did not wait a second order. His vicious voice scared her so much that she did not even dare to look away from the floor. After a second the gypsy and the judge heard the door closing behind them.

The smile on the face of the gypsy when talking to the servant had instantly disappeared, and now her head was bowed down in despair.

"Get up," the minister commanded loudly.

The gypsy obeyed. She dropped the onion that she had been peeling on the floor, but kept the knife in her other hand. Frollo looked for a second to the dropped vegetable, which bumped noisily on the floor. Esmeralda noticed that and abruptly after that felt as the judge roughly grabbed her by the chin and forced her to lift her head and look at him. He stared at her eyes for a moment.

"If I wanted another maid, I would have hired one," he drawled with freezing voice, piercing her with his stare.

"I was just help…." The gypsy started, but it was abruptly interrupted.

"I do not care about your excuses anymore, gypsy."

He roughly grabbed her wrist with his free hand and twisted it, making her drop the knife in pain. The fantasy of playing with her and the knife was a tempting one, but the minister knew better that in reality having sharp objects around gypsies was not really a wise thing to do. He did not wait for her to scream or object; he roughly pushed her to the nearest wall. She closed her eyes and exhaled in fear and pain. Frollo pushed her harder to the wall, pressing his entire body to hers. It had been so long since he had felt her forms, her skin, her smell, her taste… He shoved his tongue in her mouth, not allowing her to say a word. His kiss was long, deep, and rough. His lips, teeth, and tongue all participated in the hungry attempt to completely possess, consume and devour her. He did not want this moment to stop; he wanted this kiss, this feel, this flavor to last forever. His hands slid down to her waist and he started gathering her skirt, as in the same time he pressed with all his strengths his yearning, hardened member to her thigh and genitals. The gypsy abruptly turned her head aside, breaking the painful kiss. While his hands were still occupied with her skirt, she succeeded to push him a step away from her. He gnashed his teeth, knitted his eyebrows and looked at her with incredible anger.

"Please, don't," she started with horror, not able to catch her breath and feeling how her heartbeat would break her chest. She was in such a state of panic that she could barely gather her thoughts. "I… I am not feeling good, I still bleed…"

Frollo angrily grabbed her arms and pinned them forcefully back to the wall. He pressed her again hard, as he hissed in her ear:

"I shall not tolerate your lies anymore, little fiend. Your sheets have been clean for weeks. Did you really think that you could lie to me, that I did not know about it? I told you that patience has its limits and you just found mine," he pushed her harder to the wall, making her whimper in pain. "I think it is time to remind you why you are in this house," he said maliciously, as he roughly pulled the top of her dress, revealing her shoulder.

"Please, don…"

He pressed his throbbing member between her legs with great force, in the same time preventing her from having the chance to move again.

"And if you are still "feeling pain down," well, then it would not be much different from the other times, would it be," he hissed with mocking, but dreadful voice, as he hit her again to the wall. He could almost sense the so longing moment of pleasure. He tore the rest of the front part of her dress, exposing her chest and lustfully going all over it. She screamed one more time, as tears had started coming from her eyes, and uncontrollably spilling all over her face. As the minister continued mapping harshly with his hands the rest of her body, she started to whimper, sob and cry louder and louder- what else had she left? She knew that that moment would come, but still she could not help it. She could not fight back either, and even if she was feeling completely physically recovered from what had happened to her, she was more than ever horrified from the thought of him being again inside of her.

He had flipped the most of her skirt, now completely exposing everything beneath her waist. The only remains of the dress were gathered around her stomach and beneath her breasts. He pressed himself harder to her, as he started to unbutton his gown. Her sobs did not decrease. When he had halfway opened his gown, he turned her face, making another attempt for a kiss. When his lips touched her he seemed as if now to realize that her entire face was wet and red from her tears. He pulled a little bit his head from hers, staring her agony unmoved. He observed as one of her tears slid down her cheek, dropping on her bosom and proceeding further to the gathered green dress beneath her chest, where the tear was absorbed by the cloth, leaving a miniature wet spot. He looked at her in rage as he harshly pulled away from her, letting her collapse on the floor. He clenched his hands in fists and started angrily to make small circles around the room. The gypsy had fixed her eyes in one spot on the floor, prepared that he would just come and crash her, but as she did not see him approaching, she dared to look at him. When the minister saw her face, he furiously kicked one of the pots that was before his feet and pushed with rage the wooden table, making everything from it to fell noisily. He abruptly grabbed the gypsy and dragged her along the wall, back on her feet. He looked at her horrified face and hit with incredible wrath the wall next to her, making her close her eyes in terror.

"Stupid, foolish witch," the minister yelled just before her face. He grabbed her harshly by the shoulders, shaking and hitting her to the wall. "Look at me, look at me I am telling you!" The gypsy did as told. "Why you have to always damn everything," he hit her one more time, "why have you come to torture me," he hit her to the wall again, "why, I asked you!"

He stopped and stared at her big, red, but not crying anymore eyes. She looked so confident, so fearless, and so cold, as if she was not afraid of him anymore, as if she knew all his weaknesses. He suddenly put his hands off her, backing a few steps away. He started to button up his gown, as the gypsy used that moment to put back the torn dress as much as she could, so to be at least a little bit more covered. When he was ready he went to the door, noisily opening it and yelled:

"Paulette!"

The servant appeared not much longer after it, followed by Corrine. They had both heard the shouting and the cries coming from the kitchen, but none of them dared to say anything about it. However the younger maid was more than concerned about the gypsy, so she could not help it but to follow the other one. As they emerged at the door they could not conceal the confusion and surprise from their faces when they saw the pushed and broken furniture, the spilled on the floor products and the half naked girl.

"Locked her immediately back in her room and clean up this mess," the minister ordered coldly, ignoring their expressions. He quickly glanced to the gypsy and added: "And for goodness sake, cover her with something more decent."

Frollo did not even wait the servants to realize themselves from the view and as usually to bow their heads and say "Yes, sir." He simply pushed them aside as he hastily walked to the stairs and up, heading for his bedroom.

_**WHEN**_ the minister entered the room, he closed the door angrily. He turned, leaning his back on the door, and gradually came down to the floor. He looked blindly before him- it was nearly dark and the room was not lighted with any candles. He felt as if the cold darkness was surrounding and consuming him entirely. He was still full with rage. He was furious to the gypsy, but also with himself. Millions of thoughts were torturing him in the same time, not leaving him a moment of peace. He was not sure why he had stopped himself, he felt wanting her more than ever, but as if something was preventing him from having her. He felt weak, pathetic, and wretched. He should have finished what he had started and freed himself from this intolerable abstinence. But why then he stopped? He knew the answer of that, but it made him only angrier with himself. He had not care before about her misery, about her pleadings- all that just made him enjoy conquering her even more. However, when he saw today the same agony in her eyes, which had before always gave him pleasure, something was different- he felt sorry for her, wanted to comfort her, and even he felt the need to drop on his knees before her and beg her for her forgiveness. Today he had felt something that he thought that he would never feel towards any gypsy- he had sympathized for the misery that he himself had cost.

Frollo closed his eyes in anger. He hated it, he hated feeling compassion, he hated feeling weak, he hated wanting so much to make her feel happy. It was all because of his restrain- that was the only reason. Seeing her today talking and laughing so carelessly and lightly with the servant had made him remember when he had seen her for the first time. On the Feast of Fools her confidence, her smile and her lively eyes had enchanted him, had bewitched him to desire her and readily to refuse the virtue of abstinence. However, now they were influencing him controversially.

He opened his eyes again piercing at the darkness before him. In a moment, a spark of red passed across the room. He stared harder at the empty space, as suddenly the image of the gypsy from the day of the Feast of Fools appeared before him. _She looked even more supernatural than he remembered. Her red and tight dress was emphasizing her delightful figure; in her black, raven hair a yellow tiara was blazing I the sun lights (_even though the room was completely dark_), and all around her the colorful, gypsy scarves were making her appear even more magical, marvelous, mysterious, and celestial. She started moving, spinning, sliding, arising, curving, and dancing. It seemed to the minister as if every motion of hers was completed with a thrilling tune, which was echoing around the entire room._ He was not dreaming, he was awake, but his mind was so deeply lost in the fantasy that he did not care anymore what was real and what was not. He could not have the actual Esmeralda, not yet- something unexplained was preventing him from causing her further pain, but he could have this. He could have the fantasy, which returned to his emotions with the same burning passion.

_She came closer to him_ (in the same way as when the gypsy had jumped teasingly on his chair on the Feast of Fools while dancing). _But this time she slowly and ecstatically started to take off all her colorful scarves, and after she had finished them she pulled her red dress down, letting it slide slowly down her dark skin. _The minister felt arousing. During the last weeks, even though he was feeling constantly sexually frustrated, he never dared to pleasure himself. All his life he knew that it is a sin to violate his own body, and despite that he was ignoring so many vices that he was doing recently, somehow it was feeling wrong for him to add this one as well. The only time that he had done such thing was the first night that the gypsy spent in the house. Throughout the day he had been imaging what things he would do to her when he returned back, but his work had kept him busy until very late, and eventually Esmeralda had fallen asleep when he had returned. Now it was feeling as if it was all repeating again- the same unsatisfied desire, the same unreachable gypsy, and the same ache begging for relieving. He cared neither for sins, nor for virtues anymore. All that he could think of was the intolerable abstinence that needed to be deadened, even just for a little. _He watched as the gypsy came down to him and opened his gown, sliding her hand in his pants. He inhaled heavily with pleasure, as her hand grabbed him firmly, pleasuring and releasing the so long restrained lust of the minister. _


	11. Negligence

Negligence:

_**ESMERALDA**_ could not sleep the entire night. She was frantically looking at the door throughout the whole evening in fear that the minister might come every moment and finish what he had started in the kitchen. After he had left her, half naked with torn dress in the middle of the disordered room, the servants started to clean up as soon as they snapped out from the shocking view. Corrine had escorted the gypsy upstairs and Esmeralda immediately changed with her white night gown. Except the green dress, which the servant had given her, the gypsy had another one; the expensive red and black dress, which the minister had bought for her, but the girl preferred rather to stay only with a night gown than to dress his "generous gift." There was something in that dress that disgusted her- the way that Frollo had stared at her with such strong libidinous passion, when she wore it, was something that she wished never to experience again. However, after the maid had examined her former green dress she said to the gypsy that it was doubtful that it could be fixed. Esmeralda dully apologized for returning the servant's clothe so torn up, but they both knew that it was not her fault. Nevertheless, Corrine gently offered her another of her dresses (even though she did not have actually so many), but Esmeralda simply refused. She did not wished her misery to spread further and now when the maid was her only friend left she did not want to cause her any trouble. Not long after that the servant left the girl alone, scared and anxious for the night.

Eventually, Esmeralda had fallen asleep after midnight, but that did not last for long. She woke up early in the morning and was numbly circling around the room, looking through the window, and pointlessly trying to open the locked door. It was Saturday, and it was usually the part of the week that the minister spent mostly in his house. Before her pregnancy happened, he had been always spending this day with her, doing with her things that she tried really hard to forget. The recent Saturdays, however, were different. Since the week that she was too weak to do anything at all, but to lay in her bed, and the following ones when she was pretending still to feel pain, Frollo had given her a separate from his room and had left her undisturbed, as he was usually occupying himself with work. But with the yesterdays events it was highly doubtful that this week would be one of those.

The gypsy was circling nervously the middle of the room. She knew that her "vacation" time was over and her humiliation would start again, but one thought was constantly returning in her mind, giving her some doomed hope… Why Frollo did not just ravish her yesterday? What had stopped him? Was it possible his conscious to have awakened? Was he feeling bad for her misery? No, that was impossible- man like him lived exactly on this pleasure of torturing and killing everything around them. But still, Esmeralda could not explain the mercy that he had given her yesterday. Suddenly she heard a key entering the lock of the door. Her blood in the veins froze, as her heart beat increased, and she stopped breathing in panic. She knew that it was him. She turned to the window, but then changed her mind and faced the door again. She could not run anymore, and surely she hated to be the girl that conformed to his wishes. Whatever was awaiting her, the gypsy decided to face with confidence, as the one that she always believed she had, before she met him.

The door opened and the minister entered, directly piercing his eyes at her. He looked more rest from yesterday, but he still appeared very intimidating to the girl. He was as usually wearing his judicial gown and had his hat in his hand. Her eyes met his, which made her immediately to look down the floor. With his emerging her confidence had seized, however not fear made her direct her eyes down, but something else… He made a few steps in the room, intensively moving his eyes all over her. The awkward silence in the room made the gypsy feel more uncomfortable than ever before in his presence. The minister had stopped advancing to her, leaving still a fair number of steps between them, as now for the gypsy it seemed as the whole world had stilled in that suspensive moment.

"You are still with your night dress," Frollo stated with his usual cold, low voice, still not putting his eyes off her.

His voice made her shiver, as she looked at him for a second, and then automatically looked back down to what she was wearing as if she had forgotten. She put her arms around her, suddenly feeling too exposed before him. She nodded barely, as her eyes were fixed on the floor.

"Yes, I am," she confirmed quietly.

"Why," he asked, not changing the intonation of his tone.

Esmeralda backed up a few steps from him. This time she dared to look at him in the eyes for long enough so to answer him without trembling.

"Because I do not have anything else to wear. You ripped beyond reparation the dress, which I had yesterday," she said boldly, resisting the urge to huddle miserably on the floor and to wait for him to crash her. Frollo's eyes, which were just a moment ago coldly staring at her, narrowed with hatred.

"And yet, you stand here untouched," he drawled unmoved, but with spiteful note in his tone. He moved a few more steps towards her. "How long do you really believe that this would go on?"

Esmeralda did not answer. She looked towards the floor again. The minister continued staring at her.

"Do you fear me," he asked with the same unchanged coldness. She did not answer again. "Or do you fear what I am about to do to you?"

The gypsy remained wordless, but she lifted her head, looking at him at the same time with panic and confusion. He smirked pleasurably, as he made a few more steps towards her. The girl automatically backed up; stumbling over her own steps and barely managing to stay stand. The minister had stopped advancing to her, as there were still a few steps between them, and he observed with cold expression her clumsiness.

"Calm yourself down," Frollo drawled unmoved, "I do not intend to repeat the last night's …event." Esmeralda looked at him doubtfully. His eyes slid all over her body again and he smirked, adding: "At least not with the dress- this things can be quite expensive. Due to your stubbornness, now I ought to give additional amount of money to my own servant in order to compensate her dress," he said unmoved, piercing straight at her eyes. "You know, it would have been so much easier if you wore the dress, which I have given you."

Esmeralda was still wordlessly looking at him. However, a thought in her mind was constantly distracting her from what she referred to as "her present problem."

"Why did you stop yesterday," she heard herself finally saying out loudly, as she suddenly made the minister silenced.

"Would you rather me to have continued," he asked spitefully after a pause.

The gypsy did not answer; she directed her eyes again to the floor. She regretted for even asking, but that thought was troubling her constantly since yesterday. She heard as the minister sighed heavily, and walked a few steps away from her, facing the door. He passed his fingers across his eyebrow, as if to chase away some idea that haunted him. After a pause he turned again towards her.

"I knew that you were insincere to me, Esmeralda; I could see it in your eyes, you are not as good fraud as you think you are. Nevertheless, I left you at peace these weeks, since all that you have been through…," Frollo started, trying to sound as formal and cold as he could. "And is this your gratitude for the kindness that I gave you- more lies and screams? I tried to make you feel as comfortable as you could here, what else could you possibly want from me?"

"What else," the gypsy asked angrily, "what do you mean "what else?" You have given me nothing, but misery and pain. "What else" can I want? I want my friends, my life, and you out of it!"

Frollo narrowed his eyes, looking at her spitefully.

"Forget you not who are you talking to, gypsy," he drawled viciously. "If my memory does not mislead me, you made a deal with me, have you forgotten it so soon?- I freed you and your "friends" from the certain death, which awaited all of you, in exchange you had to give yourself to me. As far as I know I held to my part of the bargain, but you persistently continue not to do yours. What makes you so certain your so called "friends" have not already forgotten you, and that you still have a life out there? Can't you just for once prove not to be a fraud and hold to the promise that you made to me?"

Esmeralda's eyes were sparking from the tears that burnt to get out of them. She turned away from him, advancing and staring through the window. Outside was calm and peaceful. Suddenly an urge to join the life out there hit her, but immediately she felt heavy weight to feel up her chest. Since the moment she was trapped in this house, she constantly wanted to leave it, but suddenly she felt too much shame and despair to go outside and to be part of what she remembered as a happy society. Her body froze as her thoughts started drifting chaotically. She could hear the lively conversations from the streets, the playing and happy kids, the tambourines, and the bells of the cathedral. She listened numbly their ringing sounds, sinking more and more in the tones they produced.

"You never asked for him," the freezing voice of the minister snapped her out of her trance. He had come again closer to her, as now he was just few steps away from her.

"What," she asked still confused, as she turned abruptly to him.

"You always bothered me with questions for the gypsies and the captain, but you never asked for him. Not even once, and he constantly asks for you," Frollo said with unmoved, cold voice, observing how the guilt suddenly hit her. Her green eyes enlarged, as a tear slid along her cheek.

"Quasimodo," she whispered, "I completely forgot about him." She closed her eyes overwhelmed with remorse and shame. After all that he had done for her, Esmeralda had forgotten him. She forgot to ask for his freedom, for his life, when she had so readily exchange her happiness for people, which had not even bother to ask for her.

"Yes, you forgot him," the minister confirmed unmoved, but with note of pleasure in his voice. "And the poor, miserable boy, he actually thinks that you… well, care for him."

"Is he alright," the gypsy asked, lifting her guilty eyes towards the minister. Frollo looked at them coldly.

"Yes," he said after a pause, observing the relief on the face of the girl. "He is in the bell tower as always."

There were a few more tears sliding along the cheeks of the gypsy, as she suddenly burst into cry. She turned again to the window, not wanting Frollo to be a witness of her misery. She tried to calm down, wiping her tears with her hands, but they continued spilling relentlessly. The words of the minister, the reminding of Quasimodo, and the fact that she had not think of him all this time, made her feel selfish, cruel and uncaring. She had constantly argued with the judge about her friends, but as she had never thought of him she felt as if she had betrayed him. All this had suddenly overwhelmed her. She had calmed down after a while, as now all that pain seemed to have turned inside her, making her feel incredible weight in her chest.

"I shall take you to see him, as long as you put on something different from your night gown," Frollo said with the same cold intonation, trying to sound as formal as he could. He had observed her unmoved as she was sobbing miserably, but somehow he felt her pain laying on him.

Esmeralda's cries suddenly seized, and she turned her big, green and wet eyes towards the minister. He expected to see suspicious and distrust in them, but instead they were full with innocent hope.

"Thank you," she said with sincerity that the judge had never heard from her before. He observed her for a while, as if wanting this moment to last forever, than he said, while he was still piercing at her coldly:

"Don't thank me just yet; I shall want something in return."

Esmeralda's hope had disappeared from her eyes, and she stared at the floor numbly.

"I believe that this "trip" would remind you for our deal, and after that you will be more willing of fulfilling your part of it, will you not," Frollo asked, sounding more like a command than an actual question.

Esmeralda remained silent for a moment, but after a pause she lifted her eyes confidently toward the minister.

"I understand. Can I see him now?"

Frollo smirked victoriously as he nodded in confirmation.

_**THE WAY**_ seemed rather fast and short to the gypsy, who had never before tried to go to the cathedral by carriage. She had changed in the red and black dress, which Frollo had given her, and which she had not worn more than once before. They traveled in silence, and even before the carriage had reached the gates of Notre Dame, the minister was already regretting for all that. It was still early in the morning; there were still too many people in and around the cathedral; and variety of opportunities, which the gypsy could use to escape. And even if she did not, the judge seriously worried what the people might say if they see him with a gypsy and even worse- if they recognized her. Nevertheless, they had already reached the cathedral, and it was unlikely for Frollo to give up when he had reached so far. After all, the gypsy would owe him a lot after that, and that was what was constantly in the minister's mind.

Before he opened the door of the carriage, Frollo gave a cloak to the gypsy and commanded her to put it on, as she covers her hair and face as well. She obeyed without objecting. They moved quickly inside the church, where the minister bowed respectfully at the entrance and crossed himself. He took the arm of the gypsy and hastily started to pull her to the stairs. However, the minister's hope not to come across anyone, which could know him, proved a failure.

"Minister Frollo, it is a pleasant surprise to see you here," an old woman addressed him, as she drew both the attention of the judge and the gypsy. She seemed in her early sixties, as the intonation in her voice, her clothes and the way she moved; all suggested that she was a wealthy and noble lady.

"Indeed, Madame _Aloïse_de Gondelaurier, but the pleasure is entirely mine," the minister replied in a courteous fashion, concealing well the irritation of being stopped just now.

Esmeralda stood numbly next to Frollo, who was still firmly holding her arm. As soon as the woman had approached him, he had pushed the gypsy a little bit behind him. From there, Esmeralda observed in silence how they exchanged complimentary words, which was the custom in those days among the upper classes. However her mind was far from there- she thought of what she would say to Quasimodo when she saw him, and how she could possibly apologies for her negligence to him.

"Certainly, Madame, you sound quite busy yourself, and I truly do not wish to obtain more of your precious time," the gypsy overheard the minister saying after he seemed to have considerately listened the detailed explanations of the woman for something that Esmeralda had not paid attention to hear. He stepped a step backwards, pushing the girl as well, as he wished to withdraw from his current conversation.

"But please, minister, for such a pleasant surprise I could always spare a few minutes," Madame Gondelaurier objected politely. "After all that you have done for my family it was the least that I could do. It is quite upsetting, though, to see the absence of such a devoted Catholic as yourself, missing the honoring of Our Lady so often, because of the peasants' riots. But please tell me, dear minister, should I be worried?"

"But of course not, Madame Gondelaurier, you would see yourself that in a week everything shall be in its natural order. The only thing that should concern you now is the preparing of the joyful day, which awaits your family," Frollo said still with courteous words, but his patience seemed to fade more and more in every second. He made another step backwards, in attempt to put an end of the conversation.

"Indeed, it would be quite a celebration tomorrow. But, minister, you have still not answered to the invitation; please tell me that you would attend the wedding," Madame Gondelaurier said, as if not noticing his irritation, and making the minister stop for a third time. However, this time he smiled pleasantly, and for the gypsy appeared as if for the first time he was sounding sincere in that conversation:

"Indeed, my dear Madame, it would be equal to a sin not to attend such a blessed union. Please forgive my unintended negligence; I should have answered to the invitation as soon as the marriage was announced. Of course I would do my best to attend your daughter's wedding."

"Oh, minister, that would be such an honor…." The noble woman started, but this time the judge did not give her chance to continue her talking:

"But I beg you now to excuse me, Madame," he said politely, but with impatience.

"Most certainly, how impolite of me to hold you from your duties," the woman said quickly, seeing the minister leaving.

"Yes, indeed," the minister murmured angrily to himself, as he pulled roughly the gypsy to follow him to the stairs. She followed him obediently as they climbed the stairs; and she felt her heartbeat increase significantly.

"…_**BUT **__I am telling you, g_uys, really I don't have the time for that…" the gentle, but somehow exhausted voice of the hunchback was heard stronger and stronger, as the gypsy and the minister had finally climbed the stairs.

Esmeralda's heartbeat had increased, feeling for the first time for so long excitement and hope. Even hearing the familiar voice of a friend had made her feel better. However, a weight in her chest was also reminding her for her guilt.

"…It just feels like a lost of time to carve wooden figures of people that prefer never to see me… _I need a hobby? _What are you talking about, I have the bells…" Quasimodo's voice continued to be heard somewhere in the distance as Frollo opened the door, entering first and after that pulling the gypsy close to him. "… No_, no, no_, I don't just stare the square in _hopes _to see her; I know that she's gone… Yes, I did see him, but I can't just march downstairs and ask if he had..."

It took a few seconds for the new comers to realize that Quasimodo was nowhere to be seen. His voice seemed to be coming from the second floor, where the bells were and practically where he lived. The gypsy trembled, not able to speak or even to move from where she was standing, as if suddenly the hunchback had turned to be a symbol of all her friends, hopes and dreams, which were before forbidden and taken from her. Next to her, she heard as the minister sighed in irritation, and passed his fingers through his eyebrow, as if to remove a terrible headache.

"I hate when he talks to his stones," he murmured irritably mostly to himself, then he pronounced with loud voice the name of the hunchback, making his monologue suddenly cease. He jumped down, as if from nowhere, and he stumblingly appeared before the minister and the gypsy who thanks to the cloak, in which she was wrapped in, the hunchback could hardly tell that it was her.

"Oh, master… I did not expect you here," Quasimodo stuttered confused, as his attention was entirely caught up by the other concealed in the cloak person.

"Of course you did not," the minister drawled irritated, as he turned towards the gypsy. "Due to the riots the cathedral is surrounded with soldiers, in order to prevent criminals using the Blessed Virgin as their shield before the law. Nevertheless, they are instructed to kill any gypsy, which tries to get in or out," he glanced back to the confused hunchback, as he added, "including the ones that are climbing around the cathedral." Frollo turned again to the still covered in the cloak Esmeralda, "I believe that this would be enough to prevent you from trying any pointless escapes, but even if it is not, remember that any tries of fleeing will jeopardize the well being of all left gypsies in this city."

After that Frollo did not bother to look or explain anything to the hunchback. He just warned the gypsy that he would be back at noon, and then he took a key from his pocket, left the room, locking it from outside. A silence came in the room. Esmeralda thought that her heartbeat would break her chest any minute from all that bitter joy, which had suddenly overwhelmed her. She was still unable to move, as she observed with already wet eyes her forgotten friend. He was just about to say something, as she found strengths to pull the cloak from her face, and stilled, trembling in her place. The face of Quasimodo suddenly shined with happiness, as he exclaimed with cheerful joy her name and hugged her dearly. After he did that the gypsy exhaled heavily, as if finally freeing herself from all that misery that she carried in her. She responded to his hug, as her arms embraced him, and she let her tears from both joy and sadness spill freely across her cheeks.

"Esmeralda," the hunchback repeated after a while, as they had finally broke the embrace, "but how… I mean I don't understand… the master told me that you have gone with the other gypsies… I mean he did not say that exactly, he barely speaks for you; he just said that you were alive, but I could not see you again… I figured that you have left the city," Quasimodo looked sadly to the floor, "that you have left me…"

The gypsy listened to him silently, as her eyes seemed not able to get rid of the wet, blurring tears in them. She sighed heavily.

"Oh, Quasimodo, can you forgive me," she cried out, exhaustedly dropping on her knees.

"To forgive you… what are you talking about, Esmeralda," the bell-ringer asked gently in confusion, as he kneeled next to her.

"I am sorry, Quasi; you're still locked in here because of me… I should have insisted for your freedom when I agreed…" the gypsy murmured weakly, staring at the floor, and not able to face him.

"When you agreed to what, Esmeralda," the hunchback asked in incomprehension. "Esmeralda," he repeated, hoping to snap her out of her trance, "what have happened to you?"

Quasimodo took her soothingly by the hand, in hope to see that he was still her friend. The gypsy dared to look at him, but then turned her eyes back to the floor. His gentle, naïve expression made her unsure of what exactly to say to him.

"I… I was not out of the city," she started uncertain, still fixed her gaze down, "I mean… the day the Court of the Miracles was found and they captured us… they would have killed all of us, Quasi… because of me. I could not let that happened…" she stopped not able to continue.

"But then you repented and the master let you and everybody else to go free… well, at least outside the city gates, right," the hunchback asked naively, not understanding the sorrow of the gypsy. She looked at him, as her eyes were still wet.

"He freed my people from the dungeons, but not because I repented… that wouldn't have had any significance…"

"Then what happened, Esmeralda?"

"I… I agreed to stay with him in exchange of the freedom of my people and Phoebus," she replied blankly.

"To stay with him in exchange of…" Quasimodo started to repeat if wanting to make sense of her words, but he was interrupted by her:

"I am sorry, I truly am… please forgive me, I should have asked for you freedom too," she cried out, as a tear slid her face.

"No, no," he interrupted her on his turn, "that's not what I meant, Esmeralda. I mean who you agreed to stay with? I don't understand you…"

Esmeralda's eyes were still lifted at the ones of the hunchback, as her lips mechanically pronounced with great shame in her voice:

"Frollo, I agreed to stay with…"

"But why," Quasimodo asked naïvely, as if refusing to accept the meaning of her words, "what he could want from…"

The hunchback stopped suddenly, as he saw the shame and sorrow in the gypsy's eyes. He involuntary dropped her hand, and she looked down the floor, unable to watch the disappointment in his face.

"But, but… he couldn't," the bell-ringer stuttered, not knowing what to say or understand anymore, "… I mean he is… and you are…"

He stopped again, seeing that his words were bringing her more pain and embarrassment. For a moment the room was utterly silent, as the gypsy felt with shame the stare of the hunchback on her. She felt dirtier than ever. However, Quasimodo seemed to have snapped out of his shock, and he again determinedly held her hand, which made her green eyes look back at him.

"We should get you out of here. You can escape him, Esmeralda," he said confidently, as he pulled her gently to stand up and follow him. However, she did not move.

"No, Quasimodo, you don't understand," the gypsy objected miserably. "He would find me, he always does. And he would slaughter all the gypsies between me and him. I cannot be again responsible for the misery of my people. They may be out of the city or on the streets, they may be fighting and rebelling, but at least now they have chance, choice. If I escape everybody would die without any reason or blame. I cannot do that… He would kill Phoebus as well; he is still in the army…"

Quasimodo sighed heavily, and let her arm go for a second time. He sat near her, as he was as well looking towards the floor now.

"I am sorry," Esmeralda started after a pause, "I neglected you… I forgot to free you, could you ever forgive me?"

"Of course I can, Esmeralda," the hunchback replied immediately. "I mean, there's nothing you have done wrong, I was not really arrested or in the dungeons. After they caught us, they chained me in the bell tower… I would have done anything to help you, but then I saw that they let you free and said you have repented…. I was just happy that everything was over, and after my master came to me he said that everybody was alive and well and I should better return to my daily duties…"

"I am sorry," was all that the gypsy was able to say, after she had listened to him carefully.

"You shouldn't," Quasimodo replied comfortingly. "After all Notre Dame is my home, where else would I have gone if I was to be free," he smiled tenderly and let the gypsy rest her head on his shoulder. "And despite," he added after a pause, "from here I can see everything that I need to know for the city… I saw the riots, the soldiers and the gypsies, who seem to get more and more on the streets... I even saw Phoebus…"

"What," Esmeralda suddenly said with hope and live in her voice, which the hunchback had not heard from her before. "You have seen him! Tell me, where is he, please I need to know."

"I am sorry, Esmeralda, but it was more than a month ago," Quasimodo started softly, hating the fact that he was causing her disappointment, "… I wanted to talk to him, but he was dressed like a soldier and he was guarding with the rest of them the cathedral… I was not really sure what to say to him… And then one day he was just gone. For all that I know he could be on the other side of the city now… I am sorry…"

Esmeralda bent her head hopelessly again, letting a heavy sigh left her chest.

_**BEFORE**_ the noon had come, the gypsy and the bell-ringer had the chance to discuss more what they knew about the riots, the captain and the situation in the city after the Court of Miracles had been discovered. They both seemed to share the feeling of limitation, which their prisons provided, but still they succeeded to expand their knowledge about the matters in the city. Esmeralda asked Quasimodo in details about his days and what exactly he was doing the past weeks. He, on his turn, tried as much as he could to make her feel good and to cheer her up from her misery. He did not ask her anything more about how her days passed, as he did not wished to bring her more sorrow and he was not entirely sure if he wanted to know this stuff at all. In that matter the time passed, and the noon came faster than they both wished for.

Frollo opened the door exactly after the bells had rung for announcing the midday. He found the gypsy before him with her head miserably bent aside. The hunchback was just coming down from upstairs, as she barely turned and mumbled something like a "goodbye," as a tear slid across her cheek and fell down the wooden floor. After all it seemed as the minister had achieved what he wanted from that visit- Esmeralda had realized better than ever that she needed to keep her part of the deal if she wanted him to keep his. She walked numbly outside the room, as both the eyes of the judge and the hunchback were fixed on her. Quasimodo sighed heavily as the door was closed, and he was left again only with the company of his friends. It seemed as if only now he truly wondered if the gypsy had really neglected him.

_**FOR **_a surprise of Esmeralda, the minister stopped her sharply as she directed downstairs. Instead he took her arm and started to drag her even upper the stairs.

"Where are we going," she asked in confusion, slightly resisting him.

He looked at her, but did not give her any answer. After they have climbed a floor upper, on the top of the tower, Frollo led her to a door of probably the only room there. It seemed an old and locked wooden door, as the minister hastily took a key and unlocked it. As he opened it the gypsy was able to see the inside of the room. It was rather empty; however the stone walls had many unrecognizable symbols on them. There was a wooden bed, not much above the floor, which had a rather old matrix with worn up sheets. Esmeralda looked the minister disbelievingly, who entered the room and turned to her.

"My patience has reached its limit," he drawled with fire in his eyes, as he pulled the gypsy inside the room and locked the door.


	12. Lust

A/N: Sorry for taking me so long to update, but these days I was obsessed of making some subtitles...

Anyway, I just want to thank you about all the lovely reviews and to encourage you to write suggestions about the story if you want. I have a pretty good idea about where I want everything to go, but new ideas can always enrich the chapters.

So about this one...:

* * *

Lust:

_**ESMERALDA**_ was numbly hearing the squeaking sounds of the old bed, accompanied by the rhythmic shakings of her body. His chest was just above her breasts, heavily inhaling and exhaling air. His moans and breaths were deep, heavy and deafening for the ears of the gypsy, who was trying as much as she could to ignore everything about him. He was pushing and pushing in her, hungrier than ever before. Every part of her was warm from the constant rubbing with the sheets and with the minister above her. The red dress with its black surcoat was tossed carelessly on the floor near the bed, leaving its owner completely naked. Esmeralda had turned her head hopelessly aside, fixing her eyes numbly into the empty space. However, the attempt to stay indifferent to what was happening to her body was failing more and more, as her mind was painfully reminding her that she had given again into his arms.

Frollo's naked body above her was entirely covered with sweat. He had grabbed the back of her knees, pushing and folding her legs next to her breasts, as now he was thirstily clutching his fingers into them. His whole body was shaking out of pleasure- his legs and hands were trembling; the insufficient amount of air in his lungs was weakening his chest, making his breaths sporadic and heavy; and his head was hurting from all the screaming in the same time controversial voices in his mind. He felt that the lust that he had for the gypsy was passing beyond any physical and mental state; that it was overwhelming, destroying, weakening and annihilating every part of him; and yet he could only lust for more.

He pressed her knees further down, as he climbed a little bit upper to her and thirsted himself deeper into her, interrupting his rhythmic motions. His vision was completely blurry, as his senses were consumed by the pleasures that he was receiving. His entire body was burning, every part of it, desperately needing to be in touch with the gypsy. He moved again closer to her, now feeling the warmth sweat on his skin uniting with hers. The minister made another slow thirsting motion in her, desiring to experience as much as he could from the blissful moment. It seemed to him that that was the first time from very long since he had been overwhelmed with such joy. He was having her at last, he was his again. Again… Frollo had completely forgotten the wicked pleasures that the flesh was capable of, and now when her naked body was underneath him he was determined to make sure to conquer her completely.

Frollo renewed his fervent motions, lost in the idea to make her entirely his. He desired more than ever to forget all the recent events, the guilt, the compassion and the remorse that was eating him up whenever he looked at her. No, nothing had changed- she was still the witch that had enchanted him and his actions were not to be blamed. He was powerless against the lust towards her and now the only thing that was left was to devote to it completely. His blind eyes directed to her breasts, as he put her legs on his shoulders, freeing his hands to move all over her curvaceous body. He pressed her harder and harder, puffing ecstatically from the gratifying sensations that his throbbing member inside of her was giving him. Esmeralda's head was still aside, as she closed her eyes angry at herself that she was allowing him all this. But what could she do? Her body was lying motionlessly on the bed, as she had abandoned it entirely to his rough and persisting actions, desperately holding on to the moment when the end of it would come.

The minister had sunken entirely into the forbidden bliss, ignoring everything except it. The thought of lust had consumed him, but suddenly he felt that it was not enough. An idea persisted in his mind wondering why he had the sense that something was missing. He was entirely overloaded with yearn of processing her, of having every part of her curvaceous naked body, but now when he had her and when he was full with all that passion and pleasure, he felt incomplete. He had gradually slowed down, as he suddenly paused over her. His eyes had moved from her bosom to her face, as he gazed intensely upon it. He stilled for a moment like that, blinking a few times and fixing his stare more and more on her turned aside head. His eyes were clearly seeing now. He pushed her legs off his shoulders, slid his hand to her chin and abruptly turned it, as now she was forced to face him. His eyes were immediately consumed by her large, deep, green, but indifferent ones. The empty, surrendered and crushed by misfortune look of the girl suddenly made the minister feel even more discontented. He was still fully aroused between her legs; his skin was still burning with pleasure wherever it was in touch with hers; his hands were still aching for exploring every part of her over and over again; and he was still experiencing all the sinful bliss of the view of her naked flesh, but for a first time since she had been his Frollo felt that those sensations were not enough. Something was different, but it was not the gypsy. The minister had seen as well before her desperate eyes, but that was filling him with rather different emotions. Her struggles before were always pleasuring him, hardening him and making the conquest even sweater; her suffering was giving him content similar to the one of every successful torturer upon his victim; and in the cases of her passive indifference he had been always gratified with the sense of victory and the chance to perform all those sinful acts with her that his mind was never stopping yearning for. However, now her emotions were giving him rather discontent than any other of the mentioned above joys. Frollo's lust for the gypsy's body was surely not decreased, but the sense of incompletion suggested that he lusted for something more, for something that he couldn't take from her by force, but which he suddenly desired more than the present satisfaction of his body.

The minister, as he was still piercing his eyes at hers, slowly removed with his free hand her hairs from her shoulder. He moved a few times his stare from her empty expression to her dark skin beneath it. He leaned towards her, as he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. His hand loosened the grip from her chin, as it slowly traveled to her stomach and slid behind her back, gently lifting the lower part of it so to be pressed even closer to his genitals. He made a slow motion inside of her, as in the same time his other hand passionately moved down her skin, folding her leg and drawing her thigh closer to his hip. Her warm skin felt even warmer now as it was pressed against his. He made another gentle movement inside of her, while his hand rubbed stimulatingly her thigh. Frollo's head was still above her shoulder, as his lips touched her skin mildly again and again, slowly advancing more and more to her head. Frollo kissed tenderly the down part of her neck, as he penetratedhimself deeper into her one more time. His kisses changed direction, now going upper her neck. His moistened lips touched her warm skin a few more times before he lifted his head, interrupting the gentle, but deep movements of his throbbing member inside of her. He eyes met again hers. Her expression was not changed. Frollo stared at her green eyes for a while, as the room seemed in perfect stillness. Suddenly, he took his hand from her back and reached to her head. For a second he paused just above it, as his fingers slowly removed her dark locks from the one side of her face, placing them behind her ear. Then he directed his eyes to her lips, slowly tracing them with one of his fingers. The girl still did not move. Esmeralda seemed stilled in a trance, uncaring about anything that happens around her. The minister curled his lips in bitter frustration, as he abruptly ran his fingers through her hair, grabbing the back of her head and lifting it closer to him. He pressed hard his lips to her, making a slight kiss, but then interrupting it. He paused for a moment, and then again kissed her, this time deeper, as if trying to consume her. Frollo interrupted again after a few moments, leaning his head on the other side, and continuing passionately devouring the moist from her. He shoved his tongue deeply into her mouth, keenly exploring everything around it. His fingers clutched a little bit further into her skull, as he closed harder his eyes and pressed her even harder to him. He desperately wanted her, he wanted all of her; he suddenly felt the urge of having more than just her body. Frollo wanted her to react; to respond to his kiss; to feel what he was feeling towards her. He knew that something in him was different, perhaps wrong and most certainly weak, but the lust to have her body was not satisfying him anymore. He had suddenly realized that his sinful acts would not be completely gratifying unless they were shared.

Frollo pulled from her lips, still holding her head in his hand. He started breathing heavy, trying to compensate for the lost air. He gazed at her again, but it past a few moments before he could completely comprehend that the gypsy was still motionless and lifeless into his arms. Her blank stare made all of his burning emotions towards her suddenly freeze. The minister narrowed his eyes viciously, as he was still piercing at her. His lips curled in disgust, as he dropped roughly her head back on the pillow, and almost immediately slammed it angrily aside. He suddenly felt too disgusted of even looking at her. This was not supposed to be about pleasing her, and that thought made Frollo feel a heavy weight filling up his chest. The disappointment, the failure, and the realization that he would never have what he really wanted made the minister feel more wretched than ever. His hand was still on her face, harshly pressing it to the pillow, as his other hand, which was still on her hip, roughly grabbed her knee, ruthlessly pushing her leg aside to the bed. Esmeralda bit her lip hard not to think about his harmful actions upon her, but that was not enough to stop the unfortunate cry that escaped her lips. He pressed her even harder, as he lowered his head and sunk it into her hair, not wishing to see or care about the pain that he was causing her. He pushed in her brutally and furiously over and over again, closing his eyes and trying to replace the screaming discontent with the physical pleasure. He was rougher to her than ever; her repressed whimpers were ringing into his ears, and even though he was surely not pleased by them, he felt the need to cause her pain; any pain that might made her feel half of the harm that her passive state had caused him. His sporadic, increasing and harsh motions in her eventually started giving him waves of the sinful pleasure that had been all that he had wanted before, but he seemed absent- minded even to that. For a first time he was not enjoying any of this; he felt the urge just to get it over with as fast as he could. He sank his head deeper into her hair, as he rubbed onto her body rougher and rougher, giving more pain than joy to any of them. Again and again, harsh; furious; merciless; consumed by irritation; and uncaring. He moaned heavily, gasping for air. It was not supposed to be about her; it was not supposed to be about pleasing her, it was supposed to be about harming her… He gasped again and again, turning his head now to her ear. He breathed heavily reaching his moments of final lust. He made last deep, sluggish motions into her, as he felt the releasing tension between his legs and his sperm spurted into the molested girl. She was silence and stilled again. He stared blindly towards her, as he was covered with sweat and her hairs all over his face. His lust made her miserable, and his lust was now preventing him from having what he wanted. Why everything had to change? Why he needed to want more? He sighed heavily, as he pulled himself from her, going to the edge of the bed and stepping on the cold, stone floor.

_**FROLLO**_ started dressing up consumed by unbearable irritation. He had never before felt as dissatisfied while bedding the gypsy as he was now. He pulled up and adjusted his pants as his attention suddenly shifted to the still lying on the bed girl. Differently from her just a moment ago passive state, she was now hastily gathering the old sheet of the bed and attempting as much as she could to put it around her. The minister gritted his teeth in annoyance as he turned and tried to concentrate on dressing the rest of his clothes as fast as he could, strongly wishing to leave this place immediately.

After he had smoothed carefully his gown and put his hat on, he glanced one more time to the now covered in the old sheet girl, who had again stilled in a catatonic pose on the bed, fixing her eyes at the floor. He turned his eyes from her, as he spotted the two pieces of her dress on the floor and wordlessly walked to them and picked them up. He threw them near her, as he that drew her attention and made her slowly take them.

"Dress up fast," he commanded coldly, as he added: "the cathedral would be closed in less than an hour and I do not intend to be locked in it for the night."

Esmeralda had not looked at him even once. She just put aside the black surcoat and prepared the red gown for dressing. She was now sitting on the bed and she was still firmly clutching the fingers of one of her hands to the old sheet around her, which made the entire process of preparation slower. Frollo watched her impatiently as she was adjusting slowly one of the sleeves with her free hand, as if at the same time considering what would be the best way to dress up while the sheet was still on her.

"Hurry up," the minister snarled irritated.

Wordlessly she lifted her green eyes piercing at him, as if trying to tell him only with her expression how the process would get faster. He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Unbelievable," he murmured in frustration, as he turned his back on her, advancing to the only window in the room, and giving her the demanded privacy. For a moment he wondered why he was at all doing what she wanted, but that thought gave him even greater irritation. The minister passed his fingers across his eyebrow in an attempt to chase that idea and to concentrate on something else.

Nobody said anything more while she was dressing, which the gypsy tried to make rather fast, as she was now contented from the small victory that she had achieved. After putting on the dress and the surcoat she took and put carelessly on her shoulders the cloak, which the minister had given her earlier so to disguise herself when entering the cathedral. She paused hesitantly for a second, as she saw that Frollo was still staring trough the window at something outside and not noticing that she was done.

"I am ready," Esmeralda mumbled very quietly and indecisively so to draw his attention.

Frollo turned, as his eyes went all over her wordlessly. Then he looked at her in the eyes.

"Cover your head as well," he ordered coldly.

She obeyed, and when she had completely covered herself with the cloak the minister headed rigidly to the door, as he grabbed her arm and started dragging her after him.

This time they crossed the cathedral undisturbed by anyone. Frollo was walking hastily and rather eager to get out of this place as fast as he could. The door opened noisily as he dragged the concealed gypsy after him outside. He took down the steps before the cathedral very fast, making the poor girl stumble and fight not to fall down, but in the same time to keep up with him. His grip was firm and painful, which made her not oppose much. However, when he approached his carriage, which was located just after the steps, the minister felt rather strong resistance. He turned in frustration to the gypsy, who had stopped in the middle between the steps and the carriage and was determinedly pulling her arm back.

"What now," he hissed coldly, as he had lost any patience.

"I'd like to walk," she replied firmly, sounding more like a statement than request.

"I do not have the time for this," Frollo denied resolutely. He tried to pull her again, but she resisted even harder. "Get in the carriage at once," the minister clenched angrily through his teeth, attempting to restrain his wish to yell at her in the middle of the street.

"No," she refused keenly, as she increased her voice and drew the attention of the passing them people around.

Frollo moved his eyes from her, looking irritated at the curious glances of the people who had just left the cathedral. He sighed heavily, dragging the gypsy this time not to the carriage, but a little bit aside from the center of the stairs of the cathedral, where he hoped that he could deal with the girl without making further scenes. After they had passed the steps, he pushed her angrily to the wall of the cathedral behind.

"Your wishes are of little importance to me," he snarled coldly to her, looking her straight at her green eyes. "I have more important things to do than trying to please you all day," he continued bitterly, refreshing to his mind the experienced frustration from her passive expression in the tower.

"I know that, but you don't have to walk with me," Esmeralda objected, ignoring the context of his statement and boldly looking straight at him. The minister smirked mockingly, as he was still expressing great annoyance.

"Little witch, have you really thought me for foolish enough to let you wander the streets of the city without me and to believe you would not try to escape?"

"I won't," she assured keenly, "what's the point? This city is full with soldiers at every corner," she continued as she gestured randomly to some of them, who were standing not so far from the cathedral, "I am not a fool! If I escape you I know I would be captured before I could even reach the gates of the city."

"And even if you had realized your words," the minister drawled, as he was somewhat more calmed down when he thought over this idea, "my answer is still no. You have done nothing to deserve the privilege of entrusting you back your freedom."

She silenced for a moment, breaking the lock of their eyes, and looking down the ground. She was still well covered with the cloak and the minister was now only seeing some of her hair locks, which had escaped the cover. His words made her loose her boldness and shaken her confidence. She knew that Frollo was asking her for something in return, even though he had not completely realized it himself.

"Come on," the minister said irritated after a pause, as he took her by the arm. "It will be dark soon and I do not wish to lose my time anymore for the day." He urged her to move, but she did not.

"Wait," she said barely, as he paused and turned, looking again at her lifted eyes. "I would do something in return if you let me walk to the house now."

Frollo lifted his narrowed eyebrows, as he came closer to the gypsy, intimidating her personal space. His face adopted an expression mingled between incomprehensiveness, suspicion, surprise, hope, lust and distrust.

"And what possibly could be that," he asked with a cold voice, trying to restrain the millions of suggestions that suddenly overwhelmed him. His lust and the newly discovered desire for something more with her was his weak spot, but he was determined not to let her manipulate him because of that.

Esmeralda's eyes did not succeed to look at his intimidating ones anymore, and she directed them a little bit downer with embarrassment.

"I will…," she started quietly with awkwardness in her voice. She looked at him again and said in one breath: "I'll be yours."

Frollo smirked libidinously, as he drawled mockingly:

"But my dear, you are already mine, or have you forgotten so fast our encounter just a moment ago?"

Esmeralda looked aside again, but this time did not hesitate in her respond:

"No, I can't forget it no matter how hard I try," she said, and then she pierced her eyes at him boldly, "but I also remember that you weren't that pleased either."

Her words made the judge annoyed again. He pushed her back to the stone wall, as he tightened his fists in an attempt not to burst and make a scene right there. He closed his head to hers.

"Then perhaps it would be best to return together in my house; to take you in my bedroom; and not stop shoving it in you until at least one of us is pleased! I assure you that would benefit me much more than to let you wander the streets alone!"

Esmeralda had shifted again her stare aside and paused in silence. She wordlessly waited for him to finish his threats, but she had just realized what a powerful weapon she had against him.

"I can give you what you want," she dropped detachedly after a pause, trying to sound as unemotional as she could.

"And what is that," Frollo replied coldly, still very close to her. Her green eyes pierced again at him.

"You want me to respond you, don't you," she stated confidently, as she pushed him slightly, so he was forced to back up a few steps from her. She made a small step towards him, as she continued, "You have got tired of fucking a corpse and now you want to know what it feels like to be with a real person."

"Watch your mouth, ignorant witch," Frollo threatened, not so much annoyed by the truth of the statement, but more of how she was succeeding to make him feel more based and filthy than ever before.

"I can give you that," Esmeralda continued completely ignoring him. "I can pretend that I like it; I can wrap my legs around you, moan excitedly whenever you want me to, curve my body in ecstasy, and beg you for more. I could play all that for you if you let me walk now."

Frollo was listening to her wordlessly, as his stare was falling all over her in bitterness. The pictures that his mind was drawing from her words and the only fact that he was hearing her saying them out loudly made the minister to lose control over his body. He felt weak; he felt his legs trembling and barely holding him anymore, as between them his member started hardening. No, his body was betraying him, but not his mind. He needed to control himself, to realize himself… She was wrong. This was not what he wanted- he did not want her to "pretend" or to "play," he wanted her to feel it.

"Why you want to walk in that moment so badly," he finally inquired with low, indifferent tone after a long pause, during which the girl was waiting patiently while staring at him. She looked aside again.

"It's been nearly two months since I am your… captive," she started quietly, but with confidence. "During that time I have left the house only three times- today is one of them; the first was when I… left it alone and returned with Corrine; and the other one was when you…" the gypsy stopped not finding neither the strengths, nor the words to finish that sentence.

"When I took you to abort the child that you were bearing," Frollo finished for her after a moment of heavy pause, trying to sound as formal and indifferent as he could, but still not able to conceal well the shame of his actions.

"Yes… when you did that," Esmeralda confirmed very faintly. "What I mean," she continued after a pause, "is that I haven't been truly outside for a very long and painful time. Everything misses me- the air, the people, and the feel of simply walking around the city. All that misses me very much, and the lack of it hurts me. It hurts me even more than…," she paused again, as she lifted determinedly her big, green eyes towards him, "…hurts me more than you do."

Another heavy silence followed. It had started to get dark outside, but it was still fairly light. Frollo watched the gypsy wordlessly. At this moment he felt more uncertain than ever before; everything seemed to lose its meaning and purpose. He thought himself incapable of distinguishing any more the differences between weak and cruel, need and want, lust and compassion. He did not know what to say to her; he did not know whether he wanted to punish her, or beg her for forgiveness.

"So yes," Esmeralda renewed, hoping to stop the long silence and receive her answer, "I am ready to please your wish, if you please mine first. Please, let me walk to the house."

Frollo looked at her, as he snapped a little bit out of his thoughts. He sighed heavily, and without any words he turned and made a gesture to the closest soldier to approach them. He waited until the man stopped before him and asked rather noisily for the heavy silence that had struck both the minister and the gypsy:

"Your orders, sir?"

"Escort her to wherever she wants to go," Frollo said, acquiring his usual authoritative and formal state, as he grabbed and pulled closer the still covered in the cloak gypsy next to him. "But return her safely to my house in an hour."

Esmeralda lifted her head in the same time disbelieving, surprised and thankful to the minister, who stared at her bitterly for a moment. That as well gave the chance to the soldier to see the beautiful face of the gypsy, which made him smile somewhat sheepishly.

"I want you to make sure nobody bothers her," Frollo continued, turning again to the soldier.

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied automatically, still staring at the girl. From the orders of his superior the man could not actually tell whether she was supposed to be another gypsy prisoner, who needed to be guarded not to escape; or someone important that needed to be protected from the other soldiers so not to disturb her even though she was a gypsy. Nevertheless, this soldier in particular did not care too much which one of these was, the beautiful gypsy before him was enough to erase the little thought that he had at all.

"And when I say nobody to bother her consider yourself included," Frollo said irritated at the moronic smile of the soldier. This time the man looked at the minister, as he stuttered idiotically:

"Understood, sir… I mean of course, sir…"

Frollo rolled his eyes in annoyance, as before to let the arm of the already eager gypsy, he took her a little bit aside from where they were standing as he leaned to her and drawled quietly enough so not to be heard from the soldier:

"If you trick me this time a bonfire of everyone that you have ever known would be arranged for tomorrow. Understood?"

The gypsy just nodded faintly, as she was still looking disbelievingly at Frollo. The minister loosened the grip of his arm, but pulled her even closer to him as he hissed lustfully in her ear:

"Don't get too tired from your walk- it would be your turn to please me after that."

He dropped her arm, as he turned and headed to his carriage filled with at least the anticipation of future content. Esmeralda observed him silently for a moment, as his last words still rang in her ears.

"Where would you like to go, miss," the soldier asked noisily, snapping her out of the sudden despair that had overwhelmed her.

She turned to him, feeling freer than ever before in the past couple of months. She pulled the cloak from her head, revealing her face and inhaling deeply air. She smiled- she was again deciding for herself, or at least it would be so for one hour…

_**ESMERALDA**_ was just aimlessly walking for about half an hour, as she found herself on a small street surrounded with rather poor houses. She did not know the place, but it suddenly struck her that she was walking at exactly the opposite direction of where the minister's house was.

"Miss, I suggest we start returning, or I am afraid that I won't be able to bring you at the minister's house at time," the soldier said with his usual noisy voice.

Until now the assigned guard was rather quiet and not asking her many questions, except for where she was heading and what was her name. That actually surprised the gypsy, because from his libidinous looks to her and from the first impression of him she expected him to be quite talkative, but she had eventually came to the conclusion that the minister's order "not to bother her" was stopping really well all the natural instincts of the soldier. Most of the time he was just following her in silence and the gypsy did not seem to mind at all. She felt quite weird at the thought that an order that had come from Frollo could benefit her so well.

Nevertheless, the girl just turned to the soldier and nodded slightly, agreeing to follow him back. This time she let him walk before her, as she felt not strong enough to walk blindly back in her prison. But even then she knew that it was worth it, even though she did not met anyone familiar, and saw more misery in the left in the city gypsies; despite all that she was there, back at the open, walking freely wherever she wanted.

Esmeralda suddenly froze at her place. She could not believe at what she was seeing, the sight that her eyes had randomly caught made her unable to move, and yet she felt so much at once. The gypsy thought that she was flying; she believed as if in a second the entire world had changed its grey and dark colors with warmth and light; she felt as if her heartbeat would break her chest, as if her lungs would burst just from the attempt to contain all the happiness that they seemed to have gathered only with one breath. Her skin was entirely pulsing and burning, as her mind felt incapable of processing all the adoration from the view.

"Miss, is there something wrong," the soldier asked, as he had stopped a few steps before her, realizing that she was not following him anymore. The gypsy did not reply; she seemed in complete trance, which no one was able to break. "Miss, are you ok," the soldier repeated, as he advance a step towards her.

"There," Esmeralda suddenly pointed out to an entirely different from what she was looking at direction, wishing to stop the soldier from advancing more.

"Uh, I don't understand you," the man stuttered incomprehensively, as he looked towards a pile of garbage near a bridge that was in front of them and which the girl was pointing.

Esmeralda pointed more anxiously again to the same spot.

"There! I… I saw something moving," she said idiotically with the best scared voice that she could produce.

The soldier just smirked after looking again towards the bridge and said with a confident courage:

"But don't be afraid of some animal, I was ordered to protect you and that is what I am intending to do. Whatever is there if it tries to harm you I would kill it. Come on, if you feel more secure walk beside me, but please, miss, let us not lose more time."

"Alright," the gypsy started, "but can you first make sure what it is?" She put her head a little bit downer, as her eyes innocently looked at the soldier and she emerged her breasts before her saying: "I get easily scared from the unknown."

The soldier rolled his eyes in something between tedium and amusement, as he marched to the edge of the bridge and started surrounding the garbage, teasingly posing and pretending to inspect it carefully.

"See, miss, there's nothing to be scared of. Even if you had seen something it had probably jumped in the river about now," he started drawling with a fake smile on his face and with mocking assurance.

Esmeralda advanced towards him.

"But you haven't checked the side part of the bridge. How can you know it is not just holding on the stones there," the gypsy said with innocent stupidity.

The soldier just smiled shaking his head in amusement; as he went to the very edge of the bridge, and bend down to see the side stones.

"No, miss, there's nothing…."

The soldier did not have the chance to finish as he was suddenly forcefully pushed by Esmeralda, making him fall in the river. The girl looked after him for a moment, observing as he dived in the water, and then she turned quickly to see if someone was around to witness all that, but the street looked empty. She saw as the soldier swam back on the surface and pulled back quickly from the edge of the bridge, before he could see her. She ran in the opposite direction, hearing his curses, which however were quickly consumed by other noises and did not bring up any attention. Esmeralda knew that she did not have much time, so she quickly returned back and ran between two old houses, founding herself on the next street, where she had seen all that joy just a moment ago. She inhaled excitedly holding her air and stopping for a moment. There he was and now only a few steps were keeping them apart.

Phoebus had not noticed the gypsy yet, as she was still fairly away from him, but he seemed also pretty occupied with a conversation with a short, skinny and fairly old man. Esmeralda trembled beyond any describable joy as she heard the heavenly voice of her beloved one while objecting to the other man irritated.

"Yes, yes, I got it from the first time, enough with the repeating. Tell your mistress not to worry, I won't mess up anything. The old one should stop nagging me so much and keep quiet, that's not about her."

"But, sir, Madame…" the other man tried to protest, but it was quickly interrupted again.

"No, no, no, enough is enough. My head is hurting from all that prattle, just leave me now I have other duties as well," Phoebus returned rudely, wishing to make the other guy go away.

"And could these other_ duties_ interfere with the…"

"Oh come on, I would be there in time, first thing in the morning, I promise," the ex- captain said, already pushing and urging the other man to leave. "Tell her that and to the other tell… I don't know, think of something romantic- that no work of mine can prevent this heaven to happen or something from that sort of babble, whatever. Just go now and leave me breathe alone for two seconds."

"As you wish, sir," the old man returned, as he nodded in fake respect and walked away from him.

That appeared to be the signal that the nervous, stilled gypsy was waiting for, as she ran towards Phoebus practically jumping on his neck and bursting into tears.

"Esmeralda," the stunned ex- captain succeeded to produce after he had realized what had just happened.

"Oh, Phoebus," she cried out pressing herself harder to his grey-common-soldier armor, which apparently had replaced the gold one of a captain.

She wrapped her arms stronger around him, as she let her tears from joy freely falling all over her face, which she had buried in him. She felt how his strong hands responded to her hug, as he placed them after a pause of hesitation around her and pulled her closer to him. His head looked on both sides of the street somewhat suspicious and nervous as if he was afraid that someone might have seen them. He gently pushed the gypsy off his chest as he was still holding her shoulders.

"Esmeralda," he repeated this time more tenderly, "but how? What have happened to you… did someone follow you?"

The ex-captain looked again nervously around, as if he was committing a crime and everyone around could be enemies and traitors. The girls had lifted her big, green, adoring, and glittering from the tears eyes towards her beloved one as she could just negatively shake her head in some kind of trance. She had completely forgotten about everything beside that; suddenly all the misfortune had disappeared from her, erasing along them the memories of the minister, the fact that the hour that he gave her was already slipping away and that the furious guard that she pushed in the river might find her every moment. In her naïve mind all that was of very little importance (if at all). Phoebus met her gorgeous face and as if for the first time since she had come out of the nowhere he dropped his guard, not worrying for who was around and let himself being enchanted by her beauty. For a moment they sank in the sweat blissful trance of their locked in one another stares, as if connecting their souls and saying so much without even a word. Esmeralda's heartbeat had increased again, as she slowly leaned towards him, desiring more than anything else to press her burning lips on his.

"Wait," the ex-captain stopped her, as he slightly pulled back and grabbed her a little bit stronger by the shoulders. He paused as he looked again nervously on the both directions of the street, and then again to her with a more clear than before expression. "Follow me," he just said as he took her gently by the arm and led her between the buildings. She walked behind him silently, reminding herself for the pushed guard and the danger if he found them.

"_**IS THIS**_ where you live," the gypsy asked as they had arrived and entered a fairly old building, in a room on the second floor, which was mostly in mess and disorder. The furniture were made by an old wood and most of them had scratches and missing parts; the floor was covered with an worn out red carpet, which had lost most of its color and had a lot of dirty spots on it. The walls did not contain much; the bed near one of them was a little bigger than a single one and its covers were tossed on it in disorder; and judging by the randomly spilled out clothes on the floor, which seemed to come from a half full bag near one chair, the ex-captain had not truly cared to try make this place more homey.

"For now yes, but I don't know for how long," Phoebus replied in an absent tone, as the first thing that he did when he entered the room was to march to its window and looked through it.

He stilled for a moment as he stared down the street so to reassure himself that nobody had followed them. Then, he turned to the gypsy, who had not dropped her loving eyes from him even for a second, as if too afraid that if she looks away he might turn out to be just a dream. He smiled at her gently for a second and then he added: "But this is not a home. They move us often around the city, depending on where we are needed, so I don't know how long I would be staying," he paused for a second as if wondering what to tell her, and in the same time wanting to tell her so much.

"The destroying of the Court of the Miracles had left too much people on the street. The crowds are angry and they have been rioting often these couple of months. Nothing seems to help and along with the many bloody battles between soldiers and outcast prisoners at the gates of the city the situation only worsens. I was called back along with many others to restrain them…" he stopped again, doubting what to say. "Esmeralda," he said softly to the still silent girl, who was listening to him in adoration, "I did not want to leave you, but I was left no other choice… Please understand me; I am a soldier, that's who I am. I have sworn to serve to the country; I have responsibilities to my family and nation… I had to accept Frollo's offer; that was the only way to continue my duty," he paused and sighed heavily, "even just as a common soldier. Please, can you ever forgive me?"

"Yes," Esmeralda immediately replied passionately, as if her mind was enchanted by everything in him and was in no condition to think clearly by its own.

Phoebus made somewhat between a bitter and relieved smile, as his eyes were again captivated in her. He explored her entirely in a silent moment, which however did not made the girl feel the awkward misfortune, which was accompanying the heavy silences that she had shared with the minister.

"You look wonderful," the captain started, making the gypsy blush in fake modest.

His eyes had stopped at the expensive dress, which she was wearing. He looked at her wordlessly, expressing only with his eyes the so many questions and hesitations that had emerged in his mind while seeing her like this. When she saw all that in him she pulled her clock awkwardly, trying to conceal the dress beneath it.

"We've changed," the ex-captain sighed heavily, as in a moment of epiphany. "You are no longer a street dancer and I am not a captain," he said somewhat sadly as he looked at his grayish uniform. It was indeed surprising how the soldier succeeded making the miserable gypsy, who had been through so much, feel uncomfortable and guilty because of his career failure. "We're not the same people, we are not the gypsy and the captain, things have changed…," Phoebus renewed, as he paused again. "Esmeralda," he started hesitantly, as if trying to choose the best words to approach some matter that bothered him, "I have to tell you something…"

"No," the gypsy suddenly said with calm and confident voice. In a moment she took off the cloak from her shoulders and untied the surcoat, tossing it carelessly on the floor. She walked and stopped just before the soldier, as she determinably reached her hands to his armor and started to loosen it up. His hands fell on hers, as he stopped her.

"What are you doing," the ex-captain asked confused. She moved her view from her hands and looked straight at his eyes.

"The only different thing is our clothes and I think that can be easily fixed," she started seriously, but after that a seductive smile slid her lips.

Phoebus smiled libidinously, completely forgetting what was on his mind, taking off his armor and staying only with his white shirt and brown pants. They both smiled tenderly at each another, as he took her head in his hands and kissed her passionately. Esmeralda's lips burned with blissful pleasure when she touched his and she felt entirely melting. She did not want this moment to finish, as she pressed even harder her whole body to his. Suddenly he broke off the kiss and looked guiltily at her overwhelmed with naïve joy face.

"Esmeralda, we need to talk…" he said indecisively, seriously wandering if that was what he really needed.

"No," she interrupted him again. "I am done talking," the gypsy said keenly, as she pulled his shirt through his head and tossed it aside. She pressed her ample breasts even harder to his chest, and kissed him hungrily. For a second he hesitated whether to pull her back, but his clear sense, when having such a curvaceous womanly body pressed into his already half- naked one, did poor compare with the lust of the ex-captain. He responded generously to her passion, as his arms surrounded her and started eagerly uncovering her shoulders.

It was indeed remarkable how quickly and dexterously the ex-captain managed to fully undress the gypsy, leaving the completely intact red gown on the floor. He walked a few steps towards the bed, making Esmeralda blindly stepping back. Her arms were wrapped around his sturdy and muscular shirtless body, and she was passionately responding to all his motions. She stopped backing up, as she hit the side frame of the bed. Phoebus with one move took her in his arms and placed her impatiently right on the folded ball of covers on the bed. Even faster, he took off his pants and jumped on her, making the bed squeak noisily, and keenly rubbing every part of her body and making her gasp heavy in ecstasy. He continued placing hot kisses on her breasts and neck, as his hands started to pull the getting on the way covers beneath them. He tossed the sheets away, leaving only the pillow and their two naked bodies on the bed. Esmeralda ran her fingers through his golden hairs, as she pulled him closer to her face and tangled fervently her tongue with his. She did not want to interrupt the kiss; she was continuing devouring him more and more, as if that was the most vital think for her living. The ex-captain had been fully erect for some time now, as he could not restrain himself from her anymore. He positioned himself between her legs, preparing finally to enter in her and give to both of them the sweat, blissful pleasure of connecting their bodies and souls into one. His hands moved along her legs, as he started to push them up to her body.

"Wait," Esmeralda unexpectedly said, stopping him to progress further. Her- being completely naked below him on an old squeaky bed and him- being above her and pushing her legs to her body- this scene suddenly reminded her too much of the one with Frollo earlier in the day. She immediately tried to shake off the unpleasant picture from her mind as she had stilled motionlessly.

"What's wrong," the ex-captain asked rather impatiently than concerned. However, the adoring voice of Phoebus made her snap out of her thoughts and she smiled.

"I don't want to do it like this," she simply said, as she pushed him until he was seated in the middle of the bed. Without saying anything further, she followed him, placing herself keenly on his lap and hungrily thirsting into him, still forcing the picture of the minister and her out of her mind.

They both started to produce moan after moan in complete ecstasy. Esmeralda started fervently and rhythmically to move inside him, curving every part of her body and giving herself completely to him. The ex-captain had placed one of his hands on the lower part of her back and it was passionately guiding her motions, making them longer and deeper. His other hand was traveling up and down her curvaceous figure, making her shiver in pleasure. The gypsy ran the fingers of the both of her hands through his golden long hair, massaging stimulatingly his scalp. She leaned to him, as they kissed again and again until all that passion had completely left them without air. She pulled from him, heavily gasping for air, as his cool and moistened lips slid down her chin, neck and breasts. She curved in pleasure, pushing deeper in him, and loudly groaning, as she pressed even closer his head to her chest. Gasp after gasp, moan, sigh, groan- they were both overwhelmed by all that and the lust to continue yearning for each another more and more. Phoebus, still under her head, turned aside, heavily breathing for air. The gypsy rubbed into him, as her motions were becoming faster and faster. She felt his hard beard over her soft skin and moaned in delight. After another deep thirst in each another she pushed the ex-captain to fall on his back, as she hastily folded her legs and started to ride him harder and harder. She felt overwhelmed with joy, bliss, desire and happiness. Everything bad was fading away; nothing mattered anymore; nothing seemed to be of any importance at all. She had completely forgotten for her misery, despair, and torture. She had completely forgotten the minister, his threats and the fact that the hour of freedom that he had given her was long ago passed.

Phoebus shoved into her harder, making her moan in sweet delight. He had pulled her closer to his broad chest, and was skillfully pleasuring her entire body. She felt more alive than ever; the drops of sweat had mingled with the ones of the ex-captain, and now they were giving in the last moments of bliss. Deep, slower, sporadic, and again; Esmeralda felt the waves of ecstasy, which she had never before known, now to creep and fill her entire body. It was so much more than everything earthy; it was a connection beyond anything physical; it was lust of love and desire, it was a connection of trust, a unit of two souls, pleasure, yearn, need, gratification- it was heaven, or at least it was what she thought. She moaned loudly reaching her orgasm, losing any control, and wondering how such delight could be even possible. She dropped exhausted on the ex-captain's chest, which were rapidly inhaling and exhaling air. He felt more pleased and satisfied than ever. His hands tenderly removed her hair from her face and he smiled contently, when her big, green eyes met his. She returned to him with a naïve smile.

"Do you love me," she asked after a moment of peaceful silence.

"Of course I do," the ex-captain replied softly with a smile of satisfaction. He did not want to _talk_ to her anymore, he did not wish his words to upset her, he had just decided that this moment could be peaceful and delightful for both of them if they just gave in completely to the lust of their bodies.

"I have never before felt happier," the gypsy said pleased not only with the answer, but also from the experienced pleasure that the captain had given her. "It was wonderful; you were wonderful."

"Am I," Phoebus asked with teasing, delighted smile. He pushed and rolled over the gypsy on her back, as he followed her on top. He kissed her deeply, as their warm lips and moistened tongues started dancing together. He pulled off her, staring at her completely devoted and adoring him expression. He started sliding down her body, as he was leaving on her skin warm kisses. She curved her body in ecstasy, emerging her ample breasts in front. His long hairs were soothing her skin, his moistened lips were cooling it, and his beard was pleasantly tickling them. He went downer.

"What are you doing," Esmeralda asked somewhat embarrassed and naïvely, as that made the ex-captain lift his head and look at the tensed gypsy. He smiled libidinously at her.

"You have seen nothing of how I love you yet. You are happy, but I will make you the happiest creature alive," Phoebus said confidently, as the gypsy returned him with trustful smile. His words made her feel full of reveries and hopes. She dropped on the pillow, trustfully giving herself into his hands. Esmeralda moaned loudly with delight when his tongue slid skillfully between her legs. She had never before felt such pleasure, but the promise of the ex-captain suggested that this night she would and it would be more than once. She had never before understood the lust, which Frollo had to her; she had never let herself experienced it while with him; but now she was sinking more than willingly and completely in the lustful desire, believing that it was shared with a person that loved her.

* * *

A/N: _For all Frollo fans (including myself)_- _Sorry about that, BUT IT'S A NECESSARY EVIL! _


	13. Greed

Greed:

_**ESMERALDA**_ slowly opened her eyes, feeling the warmth and light surrounding her. It took her a few seconds before she could realize where she was. A soft smile slid her lips, as she recalled the previous night. Everything seemed so wonderful and so perfect; like it was some other life; some dream; some fantasy. Suddenly the girl felt too scared to turn to the other side of the bed in fear that she would see that her beloved one was not lying next to her. But she needed to remove that awful thought from her mind so she abruptly turned. Another naïve and sweet smile filled up her face as she saw the adoring head of the ex-captain lighted with the first sun rays, which were coming from the window. He was lying near her with a little bit lifted above her head supported by his arm. He responded with a somewhat restraint and automatic smile, as his eyes were intensely staring at her in a thoughtful and absent-minded way. The gypsy leaned towards him with the intention to put a soft kiss on his lips, but he stopped her with a hand as he backed his head a little bit.

"We need to talk," he said with a sad and serious voice.

"Is that what we really need to do," Esmeralda teased with a playful smile.

"He had touched you, hadn't he," Phoebus asked suddenly, making the bright and cheerfulness disappear from the face of the girl, who pulled back and looked at him upset.

"Why you had to say that," the gypsy uttered spitefully.

All of a sudden the memories of the last couple of months, which had so easily flown away from her mind, returned faster and more devastating than ever before. She sat on the bed a little bit away from her lover, as she made sure to surround her breasts with the sheet that was on her. She pressed her tightened in fist hands closer to her chest, as her raven hairs dropped freely on her still bare shoulders, which were covered with the upcoming sun rays outside. The naïve happiness had disappeared from her face and now she was looking at Phoebus with bitter disappointment and sadness.

"I am not stupid, Esmeralda," the ex-captain started insensitively, completely ignoring the sadness and shame that had stroke over her face.

He lifted himself, sitting as well on the bed, as he let the thin cover slid down from his muscular chest and torso. Esmeralda was intensely looking at him; he seemed even more magnificent and handsome from yesterday if that was even possible. The gypsy felt the need to just let down her guard, huddle in him and ignore all her misfortune and the words of her beloved one, which seemed only to cause her pain now.

"I know that he hasn't just let you go because you repented," Phoebus continued keenly, perhaps not entirely aware of the wounds, which he was causing her. "I also know that you were untouched before two months, and tell me that I am imagining, but it surely didn't felt that way yesterday…"

"Because you know so well how it feels with virgins, don't you," Esmeralda interrupted him sharply, as tears of embarrassment were already burning her eyes, imploring to spill out all over her face.

"That's not what I meant," the ex-captain said quieter and somewhat ashamed of the fact that he had made her upset. "Esmeralda," he started with a more sensitive and soft voice, "I know you have agreed to that to safe your people but ask yourself if a bunch of beggars and thieves are worthy enough of the sacrifice you made?"

"And you," the gypsy added, still feeling pain from his words.

"What," Phoebus asked incomprehensively. Esmeralda pierced her big, green eyes straight at his, as she said with cold tone:

"I let Frollo do whatever he likes with me in exchange of the freedom of the "beggars," "the thieves," and you."

"I didn't ask for that," the ex-captain returned after a moment of silence.

"You didn't have to," the girl said more softly, but still trying to be rather emotionless. Another heavy pause followed. "But you haven't thanked me either," the gypsy uttered with sorrow in her voice.

Phoebus looked aside for a moment, consumed in something. After a while he turned confidently towards her, as he took gently her hand and surrounded her with his other arm, softly driving her closer to him and letting her head rest on his muscular chest.

"I am sorry, Esmeralda," he said tenderly with guilt in his voice. He relaxed his chin on her head, looking through the window in some kind of trance; and soothingly, but mechanically caressing her head. "I should have protected you."

She breathed heavily, letting down completely her guard and giving in his strong body. She felt more secure and calm than ever before. She softly shook her head, as a tear slid her face and felt on his chest.

"No, you couldn't do anything," she objected somewhat comforting him. "I knew that and that's why I made my choice. Even if you have tried to safe me, we would have all ended up on the pyre…"

She sharply interrupted her sentence, as she abruptly pulled off him in total panic. Esmeralda backed up from him until her feet blindly find the floor and she got off the bed, frantically holding the sheet loosely around her and still looking at him in terror without actually seeing anything.

"Oh my God, what have I done," she mumbled crying, still consumed from the shock.

"Esmeralda, what's wrong," the ex-captain asked surprised from her sudden change.

"What have I done… how could I, oh it's all my fault," the gypsy was muttering louder and louder, resembling more and more of desperate cries than words. The idea of a pyre had suddenly triggered in her the memory of the deal that she had made to Frollo and which she had forgotten the moment she saw the view of her beloved one. "They are all dead now because of me… I am the reason, it is my fault, my fault," she continued crying in despair as she hit the wall behind her with her back, still in complete shock.

"Esmeralda, calm down," Phoebus commanded in an attempt to shake her off her hysteria. He tossed the covers off him, remaining completely naked, as he crossed the bed, stepped on the floor, and went to her. He surrounded his strong, muscular arms around her, pressing her closer to his broad chest. "It's ok; everything would be fine, just tell me what's wrong. I can fix it," he started soothingly, wishing to make her feel better.

"No," the girl frantically objected, as she pushed him off her, making him back up a few steps. "You can't," she said, now gaining more awareness, "but maybe I can." Esmeralda, still holding loosely the sheet around her, went determinately to the window where her red gown was lying carelessly on the floor. She hastily dropped the sheet from her and started quickly dressing the robe.

"Are you planning soon to tell me what's going on," the ex-captain asked impatiently and somewhat irritated from her sudden and often mood shifts.

"Yesterday when I told you that nobody was following me I wasn't entirely honest," the gypsy started telling quickly, as she stepped into the dress and started carelessly to pull it up her legs. "I mean nobody followed me, but just because I got rid of him," she continued distracted from the multi tasking. "Phoebus, it wasn't one time," Esmeralda said, stopping and turning for a second to the still standing and completely naked ex-captain near the bed.

"It wasn't," he asked, not understanding anything from what she said.

"No, it wasn't," she repeated miserably, as she renewed her dressing up. "It was multiple times, and it was always horrible. During these two months he just kept me in his house and molested me whenever he wanted. I couldn't do anything, he was threatening to kill me, to kill you, to kill my people… he was so much stronger than me. The only thing that I could do was to try as much as I could not to think of what was happening to my body…. But I needed to get out, to breathe, and to feel that I was free; even if it was just for a while, even if it was just pretending and a lie…" the gypsy continued with a desperate voice, as she put her arm in one of the dress' sleeves. "Yesterday I realized that he was not content from just having me as an apathetic corpse… Phoebus, please understand, I wouldn't have promised him something more, but that was my only chance to get out… and to meet you," Esmeralda said as she had finished dressing the red gown and looked intensely at the still standing and wordless ex-captain. "Yesterday, half an hour before I met you I made a deal with him: he gave me one hour of pretended freedom in exchange of one night of pretended pleasure with him."

"All these time he was having you," Phoebus produced slowly, still uncomprehending her first words. It was indeed surprising how the minister had succeeded to limit the rumor that he was bedding the gypsy and he was keeping her in his house to such degree that the ex-captain had not heard anything about it. Phoebus slowly backed up a few steps and sat heavily on the bed, which made it squeak noisily. He turned again towards Esmeralda: "And now you have promised him to love him?"

"No," she keenly objected, as she had gathered the black surcoat from the floor and was preparing to dress it as well. "I promised him once to pretend that I like… you know… what he was doing to me. It is different from love. But it was not enough, he did not trust me, he send a soldier with me yesterday, and I succeeded to distract him as far as I could run to you, but I am sure he had reported me long ago to him… I should go," the gypsy said, as now she was completely dressed.

"Wow, wait," Phoebus was able to fabricate still confused. "Where you "should go?" To him? Are you completely out of your mind," he said trying to get his own thoughts in place, as he stood up again.

"You don't understand, my love," Esmeralda returned tenderly with a voice of a convicted, who is led to her death. "He threatened if I don't return after an hour he would kill tomorrow everyone that I care about. I should have returned before hours, he must be furious… probably he has already burned all my friends and ordered to cut my head if some of his minions see me."

"One more reason not to go," the ex-captain replied keenly, as he picked up a sheet from the floor, loosely surrounding it around his waist. He advanced towards her. "Once I let you go to him, but I'll be damned if I repeat this mistake!"

"No, Phoebus, please you have to let me go," the gypsy said a little bit less decisive, as her sorrow was calmed down from the gentle words of her beloved one. "There's still a chance that my people are alive and I can always beg him for forgiveness… I need to take this chance, I owe it to them; they are innocent… They don't have to pay for my mistakes and choices," she went back closer to Phoebus as she kissed him tenderly and added, "And you don't have to feel guilty for me either." She tried to pull back from him, but his strong hands prevented her from moving, as he tenderly placed them on her shoulders and then on her face.

"But how could I not, my love. Look, you can't just give up life because of the others, it will destroy you. For now I can assure you that there haven't been any mass executions, otherwise I would have been informed," he said, caressing her cheek lovingly. She smiled.

"Thank you; you see, you always succeed to make me feel happier," she leaned towards him and kissed softly his lips. "But I should go now; even if he doesn't kill others because of me, he would definitely find me the moment I leave this building."

"No, he wouldn't," her lover objected lively. "I would make sure that everyone would be safe, you'll see, I promise you. But the first thing is to get you out of the city."

Esmeralda smiled again, as her guilt and fear had again disappeared and had been replaced with naïve hope and trust into the ex-captain.

"Alright," she whispered softly, giving her life, soul, and body completely to him. She kissed him again and again, sliding passionately her tongue into his mouth and tangling it with his. She made a step after step, forcing him to back up until he had no other choice except to sit back on the bed. "I trust you," the girl said naively as she sat next to him.

"Good, because I won't leave you this time," Phoebus said reassuringly, completely enchanted by her green, innocent eyes. She smiled warmly and kissed him again, as her hand dropped on his muscular shoulder and started sliding down his chest, stomach, and beneath his loose cover… He felt arousing, as he could not help it but return to her kisses. "You'll see," he continued after he had finally succeeded to pull from her a little bit, "you'll be safe. I'll find you a place, which would make you feel secure again… something far from the city perhaps, where you can feel joy and happiness…" Phoebus' mumbles made her feel even happier, as she did not care anymore about anything of her just a second ago fears.

"Tell me you love me," she inquired softly.

"I love you," he said automatically.

"Tell me that we will be together forever."

Phoebus suddenly stopped and pulled back from her lips. He placed tenderly his hand on her wrist, preventing her from continuing further beneath the sheet. He sighed heavily, as he looked aside.

"I don't want to lie to you," he said after a pause, in which the girl was looking at him incomprehensively. "I have duties here in the city, I owe it to the nation to be a soldier… and I owe to my family to…" the soldier started, but she sharply interrupted him as she smiled naively:

"It won't be a lie if you just come with me," she protested softly. "Phoebus, follow your own advice and don't doom your life for the others."

"Esmeralda," the ex-captain started more decisively, as he pierced his warm eyes at her, "please let me finish. Now you are the one who doesn't understand. Even though I come from a high class family, they would be nothing if they don't reassure their wealth."

The gypsy pulled back, still incomprehensively.

"Why are you talking to me about money," she asked suddenly. "Oh, please my love, forget your greedy relatives, you don't owe them anything. Just come with me and let's live together in happiness. And despite a soldier's payment can't really reassure anybody's wealth," Esmeralda said softly as she leaned to kiss him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and said in one breath, as he barely succeeded to keep his eyes lifted:

"I know that, and that's why I am marrying a richer girl."

The gypsy pulled abruptly from him in a complete state of shock, as if he had suddenly pierced her heart with a dagger. For a moment nobody said anything; the ex-captain waiting intensely her response, and the girl seeing how the joyful heaven suddenly lost all of its colors and light. Her vision got blurred from the hot tears, which were pressing to spill out her face. Esmeralda stood up, as she broke her stare from him, closing her eyes for a moment and trying to force herself not to cry. She looked at the window for a second, and then turned back to him, now feeling enough strength so not to show her weakness.

"Is that what you wanted to tell me yesterday," she asked with the calmest and coldest voice that she could produce.

"Yes," Phoebus said quietly, as he closed his eyes, and then looked aside. Esmeralda breathed heavily so to restrain a cry that had suddenly come up in her throat.

"Then why you didn't say it," she inquired, as she had succeeded to gain again some control over her emotions.

"You didn't give me the chance…"

"I didn't give you the chance," the girl sharply interrupted him. "So now it's my fault? Yes, of course it is! It is entirely my fault," Esmeralda cried out losing her calm tone, "It's my fault that I could not see that you are just a greedy bastard! Greedy for more successes; greedy for more money; greedy for more women!"

"Esmeralda, please," the ex-captain started, as he got on his feet and reached to calm her down.

"Don't," she yelled frantically, pushing him with all the strength that she had, "don't you dare touch me!"

Phoebus backed up a step, but it was rather for giving her some space than actually from her weak punches. The gypsy tried again to suppress her emotions, determined not to spill her tears because of him. She felt betrayed, tricked and used. What she was supposed to do now? All this time the thought of her beloved one had kept her going, but now the whole world seemed to crash all around her. She abruptly turned, searching for her cloak and wishing just to leave the soldier as fast as she could.

"Esmeralda, what are you doing," Phoebus asked, as he surrounded again the sheet around his naked body.

"What it looks like," she talked back repulsively, "I am leaving."

"No, but you can't…"

"Why? Am I your sex slave, too?"

"Please, Esmeralda, hate me as much as you want, but let me help you," the ex-captain started with a tone that sounded more like an order than actual request. He advanced determinedly to the girl, who had taken the cloak in her hands, and who pulled her arm abruptly, as the soldier tried softly to reach for it.

"No, I don't want any more lies," she said resolutely.

"I am not lying to you!"

"Really? So it wasn't a lie when you told me you loved me just to get me into your bed and after that to get me out of the city?"

"I do love you and that's why I want to help you leave him," Phoebus said loudly, in order to make her stop and listen to him. This time he took into his hands her resisting body, as he grabbed her for the shoulders.

"No, no," she cried out as she tried unsuccessfully to escape him; but doubting if she really wanted that, or just to let herself into his strong arms. No matter, her struggles of her weaker and smaller body were doomed in comparison with the bigger, more muscular and well build of the captain. He tried to bring her closer to him and to soothe her, but she resisted as much as she could. "Let go of me," she insisted more decisively. "I don't want anything from you, just leave me and be happy with your marriage!"

"I am only doing it to secure my position, which if I recall well got so insecure because of trying to help you," the ex-captain said loudly, as he shook the girl in order to make her listen. She stopped struggling, as she pierced at his eyes.

"So it's entirely my fault then, isn't it?"

"Of course not," Phoebus replied confused, "Esmeralda… it's just complicated. But what it isn't complicated is that I love you and I want to help you. Please, I am still the person that loves you and you love."

"No, you're not," the gypsy protested quietly. "The person that loves me will never use me for one night stand before his wedding."

A heavy pause followed; the ex-captain did not know what really to say to her.

"Please, let me help you," he just renewed after a moment.

The gypsy just nodded faintly, as she felt the grip of the ex-captain loosened. That was all that she waited; she pushed him with all the hatred and spite that she could find in herself, making him back up a few steps and actually fight to stand on his feet. She moved a few steps away from him, as she opened the door, but then turned again to him.

"If you do love me you'll leave me alone," she said to the stunned and confused ex-captain, who did not know what to do anymore. "I wish never to see you again," the gypsy added with a voice mingled between spite and sorrow, as she put the hood of the cloak over her head and left the room. Phoebus remained stilled after her, consumed in thoughts. He closed his eyes in frustration; it wasn't suppose to go that way

"Damn it," he yelled angrily, as he slammed his fist to the first furniture that got into his way. He went to the window only to see her figure already disappearing into the crowd. The bells rang after the morning mass, as the ex-captain seemed to have realized just now what time it was. "Damn it," he repeated, as he turned again to the room and started searching for clothes.

_**ESMERALDA**_ knocked mechanically on the door of the minister's house. A heavy weight filled up her chest, as she could not believe herself what she was doing. After she had left Phoebus the gypsy felt as if the whole world was abandoning her, as if the life was losing any kind of meaning and sense to her. She just wished to lay somewhere and remain there until the last misery of the world disappeared slowly before her eyes, and the eternal darkness of death replaced it. However, she owed to her people at least to try to safe their life before all of them die because of her. It was indeed surprising that while walking on the streets in complete despair, trance, and numbly passing all those soldiers, nobody seemed to care to stop her or arrest her. The soldiers that she passed did not seem to arrest and gather every gypsy that was on the street as well, but because of the absent-minded state of the girl, she did not seem to care much for anything that was happening around her.

The door opened not long after the girl had knocked on it. It was one of the servants, who stood behind it. Paulette looked somewhat surprised at the gypsy, but let her quickly in; as if otherwise she was going to escape. The girl vacantly made a few steps in the house, but it took her a few moments before she could snap out of her miserable trance and attend to what was happening around her. Now the minister was standing before her and the servant was nowhere to be seen. Frollo studied her with his eyes for a second, not saying anything. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was in disorder, and from the dark circles beneath his eyes it was obvious that he had neither slept, nor left the house since yesterday. However, his expression seemed surprisingly controlled and indifferent. He did not seem angry, mad, or lost in rage; he did not even bothered to produce his fake grin, which was always on his face whenever he was about to torture or punish somebody. But still, there was something in the way he looked at her; something that even terrified more the already lifeless girl, making her feel cold and fright so much more than any despair of hers could produce.

"I believe that was more than one hour, was it not," Frollo drawled coldly, disturbing the stillness in the room. She did not reply; her eyes were blindly looking through him. "You had to break your part of the deal, did you not, Esmeralda," he clenched through his teeth with hatred. She remained hanging lifelessly in front of him. "Very well then," he continued after a pause, "I hope wherever you were it was worth the annihilation of your vermin friends." He turned his head from her, with the intention to leave, but paused, as he heard her weak voice.

"Please, don't harm them," she pleaded with a miserable voice. Frollo smirked maliciously, as he turned back to her with a serious expression.

"But did I not tell you that exactly this would happen if you trick me," he inquired with an authoritative and cold voice.

"You did, but…"

"And did you not try to escape me despite of your promises?"

"But I returned…," the girl argued weakly, but she was again interrupted by his cold and dominating voice:

"The deal was one hour not one night! But you as always had to want more, had to be greedy. I treated you with more than kindness, but heathen like you is unable to comprehend good; only evil! If I do not carry out with their execution what guarantee I have that you would not escape for good the next time I fool myself and give you the opportunity?"

"Please, I won't," the gypsy said now with louder tone, as she looked at his eyes boldly. "Do whatever you want with me- lock me, keep me as your prisoner until I die; kill me; burn me as a witch; or damn it, just continue fucking me for as long as you want, I don't care anymore! Just don't kill anyone because of me; I am ready to do anything without protesting; just leave my people alone!"

Frollo observed her coldly. As she finished speaking, he moved closer to her, as now she could sense his breaths over her face. His indifferent and freezing, and yet full with all those forbidden desires, eyes made the gypsy instantly regret for her words. At the moment when Phoebus had told her that he was engaged Esmeralda had lost any desire and ambition for living; she considered her life over and that it would not matter anymore if she returned to the minister. However, now when he was so close in front of her she felt that she would agree for something far worse than any death.

"Define _anything_," he drawled coldly, with a mocking note in his freezing, low, and commanding voice.

Esmeralda's heartbeat increased, as she looked aside with shame. She was in no condition right now to mask her disgust into something else, but she owed it to her people. She blindly made a small step forwards, as she placed her hands very lightly on his shoulders, not wishing to touch him at all. The gypsy lifted herself a little bit, as her face reached his and she closed her eyes, pressing her lips harder to his and kissing him with the best passionate kiss that she could produce in that condition.

Surprisingly, he did not respond to her. Frollo stood up untouched by her efforts, and even though he was more than wishing to just grab her in his arms and give in entirely to his carnal desires, it was indeed impressive how he had succeeded to suppress all those urges into complete indifference. No, he had something far different in mind for her punishment.

Esmeralda stopped the kiss, as she pulled a little bit back from him, but her lips were still very close to his. She paused in hesitation; she did not understand what had just happened. Just a moment ago, the gypsy was more than sure that that was exactly what the minister wanted from her. But now she became more uncertain, as the only explanation that came up in her mind was that her people were already doomed and she could not do anything to prevent their death. No, there got to be a way… The girl closed her eyes, as she automatically reached for his lips, hoping that the second kiss would be more productive than the first one. However, Frollo grabbed her by the shoulders, as he slightly pulled her from him.

"Don't whore yourself more than needed," he drawled cynically, looking straight at her now confused and ashamed eyes.

"Then what do you want from me," Esmeralda asked irritated and rather embarrassed.

Frollo smirked maliciously, as he dropped his hands from her shoulders and turned, randomly walking the room.

"I knew that you would return to me," he started with a low voice, and looked at her again, "that's why I did not even bothered to send soldiers after you." Esmeralda looked at him incomprehensively, as he grinned satisfied with her expression. "The soldier that you so cleverly tricked yesterday was more than willing to return back at the river after he had reported everything to me and find you to kill you. Nevertheless, all this was unnecessary. I knew that you would not find anywhere to go, as there is no longer the Court of the Miracles; you would not find neither one of your vermin friends, but even if you had, they would have been in no condition to help you. But moreover, I was sure that your guilty conscious would eventually return you back to me; all pleading and ready to do _anything_ in exchange of their lives," the minister smirked mockingly, as he added: "However, I must say that it took you longer than I expected."

Esmeralda listened to him silently, feeling more and more at the same time how anger, stupidity, hatred, disgust and weakness overwhelmed her. He was right about everything, except the fact that he seemed to have completely forgotten about what was the chance for her to meet Phoebus, but that did not make any difference anymore…

"So what do you want from me in exchange of their lives," the gypsy repeated with irritation. Frollo smirked viciously, and then suddenly they both heard the bells of Notre Dame ringing. The gypsy involuntary wondered why, because the morning mass had already passed and it was not yet afternoon.

"We are going to be late," the minister mumbled, as he turned towards the window. His eyes shift back at the confused girl, as he drawled coldly: "I believe that I have already _pleased your wish_ and now it is time, as you put it, to _please my wish. _But for that later…For now I have no intention of engaging the already busy army with mass execution of vermin; however I expect you to repay me soon for that mercy."

Esmeralda's eyes sank again into despair. She was supposed to feel at least a relief that her people would not be killed; however she did not know why, but she felt even worse than before.

"But now you should get ready," the minister renewed after a pause, "We are going to be late if we do not leave soon." The gypsy looked at him incomprehensively, as he smirked spitefully and added: "At the moment I let you go I knew that you were going to trick me; therefore I believe that where I am planning to take you now will give you far better lesson than any death vermin body." Frollo turned towards one door, as he called loudly the two servants, who entered not long after that. "Take her to my room and change her quickly into the new gown that I bought her," he ordered hastily to the servants, who slightly bend their heads and led the still confused girl upstairs.


	14. Humility

A/N: Ok, that took a little more time than intended, but I hope you'll enjoy:)

Thanks for the reviews and please continue reviewing.

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Humility:

_Two dresses of different kind_

_**A SHIVER **_of both astonishment and fear slid through the entire body of the gypsy, as she saw her reflection in the big mirror of the minister's bedroom. The servants had finally finished dressing her up in what it seemed at first sight a messy and endlessly layered gown; and now they were fixing the last details of it. Throughout the entire time the girl had passively let the maids to dress her up; tightly to fasten a corset around her chest, leaving her with no breath; and painfully to comb her hair, pulling it and putting various things in it. All that time, Esmeralda was barely paying any attention at all, as her mind was wildly processing over and over again the morning events with the ex-captain, the words of the minister, and the terrifying idea of what else the just starting day had for her.

But now she seemed to completely snap out of her troubles as the only thing that she could see was the marvelous reflection of herself with that gown; and there was not anymore traces neither of her misery nor of her despair. The gown made everything in her more beautiful, as it lightened it up and shone it twice as much, making her look and feel as she was some kind of supernatural creature; superb, unworldly, innocent, and seductive at the same time. It was quite obvious that the dress was expensive and most certainly intended for special occasions and events. The gypsy, as attractive as she was, might as well look gorgeous no matter what she was wearing; however, there was something more in that gown, something that emphasized exactly on her stunning beauty and naturally completed it.

The gown on its own was an astonishing clothe. It had multiple layers and colors, but all of them seemed somehow to be in complete unison with the top, silk layer and what could be said to be the main color of it- deep, dark green, which was constantly grading into different shades of light. However, the cloth was adorned with many other ornaments and colors, which seemed to spill all over the entire dress, enriching and contributing to the celestial look of it. The sleeves were starting tightly to her arms, but then loosely finishing at the end, as big pieces of the dark green cloth were hanging down, gracefully trailing every move she made. Beneath the loose sleeves it could also be seen the ending of the other sleeves, which were going tightly around her arms and wrists and were decorated with gold-plated ornaments. The dress had a quite an open neckline, greatly emphasizing with a mixture of pearls, crystals, ambers, and citrine of toning shades of red, gold, and greenthe ample and seductive breasts of the gypsy. Just beneath them, a gilded corset adorned with red and green was surrounding closely her body, tied strongly with crossing green laces on her back. The skirt of the dress was graciously flowing down in layers of green shades with red and gilt ornaments and a train which was falling in pools of fabric at the hem.

Overall, the magnificent gown seemed as if it was made just for Esmeralda, who looked even more beautiful in it. For completing her look, the maids had pulled her hair half way up, but there were still a lot of dark, raven locks, which were freely falling down her shoulders and back.

The gypsy wordlessly moved her eyes all over her reflection. She lifted her hands, as she lightly ran her fingers along the gilded corset around her. She looked at the dress and then again at the mirror, not believing at her eyes. The gown was more wonderful than anything else that she had seen; it was something, which she had never dreamed of wearing; something beautiful, heavenly, and most certainly expensive. That thought stuck up in her mind, as she looked intensely at the mirror, slowly sinking into new worries and fears, as her stare became blurrier and blurrier in front of her.

"You truly look marvelous, Esmeralda," the voice of Corrine was heard somewhere in the distance, as it succeeded to pull out the gypsy from her absent-minded state.

Esmeralda turned to the maid, as she realized just now that Paulette was nowhere to be seen and they had remained alone in the room. Since the gypsy had been taken upstairs by the maids, Corrine had been silent as always during the entire time when she was assisting to put the dress on the gypsy. However, now when the other servant had left the room, the girl seemed confident enough to speak up.

"Where's Paulette," Esmeralda asked somewhat distracted.

"She went to take the new shoes, which the minister got for you," Corrine replied, bending slightly her head as usual. The gypsy turned again to the mirror, lightly running her fingers along the silk dress, as if completely enchanted by it. "A gown like this ought to have shoes equal to its magnificence," the maid continued quietly as she got closer to the mirror, looking as well the reflection of the other girl. "It is perfect for you, Esmeralda, you look stunning in it. When the minister brought it yesterday in the house and ordered us to prepare it for you, I knew that you would look gorgeous in it, I just knew it. Do you like it?"

"Why is he doing this," the gypsy asked suddenly, completely ignoring the question of the servant, but still with enchanted stare at the mirror. Corrine bent her head down, as she abruptly became again wordless and reserved. Esmeralda turned to her after a long moment of silence, as she asked now with more concerned voice: "Corrine, please tell me if you know anything." The girl lifted her fair face to the gypsy.

"Why did you not just escape when you got the opportunity," the maid asked very faintly. Esmeralda turned slightly aside, as her eyes dropped miserably to the floor. "Esmeralda, I do not understand," Corrine continued quietly and softly, "yesterday you had the chance and nothing stopped you. When you were gone for the night, I was sure that you would never return. What happened; could you not just continue hiding where you had spent the night?"

A hot tear rolled over the face of the gypsy and dropped over the gown.

"No," she said weakly, still staring at the floor, "there's nothing there for me anymore." Corrine silenced again, as she did not wish to upset the other girl any further. After a pause Esmeralda looked up again to the maid, as she repeated with stronger voice now: "Please, do you know anything of why he had given me that dress?"

Another pause followed, but this time the servant broke it up with indecisive voice:

"The answer would only upset you, Esmeralda."

"I would know it soon anyway," the gypsy replied with fear and concern in her voice. "Please, just spare me at least the shock from the pain."

"I am really not supposed to tell you," the maid started hesitantly, as she made a slight step backwards. The servant was more than afraid of how the gypsy would react to what she wanted to know. Corrine remembered more than well how the last conversation of such kind ended up and she did not wish to make the same mistake.

"Please, Corrine, I beg you," Esmeralda said, sighing heavily in frustration. "I promise you I won't do anything that could jeopardize you…"

"He bought you the dress because it is only suiting for noble celebrations," the maid sharply interrupted the gypsy and said almost in one breath, as if otherwise she would change her mind. She was looking straight at Esmeralda, as she started more indecisively: "It is for the wedding of…"

"Phoebus," the gypsy whispered numbly, as she felt a painful shiver run through her entire body. How could she not have foreseen it? After all that happened in that morning the _lesson_ of the minister was right before her eyes and still she had completely shut her mind for it. But now it was clearer than ever; now it was screaming into her ears and demolishing all her senses; now when she knew what else had the day for her she felt weak, numb, pathetic, and horrified. Frollo was going to make her attend the wedding of Phoebus; but after all that had happened between her and the ex-captain the last several hours, the minister would probably punish her far more severe then intended. Her eyes filled up with tears, as she was still staring blindly at Corrine. The maid was silent for a few moments, but the curiosity got the better of her and she finally could not help but ask:

"But, Esmeralda, how do you know about his wedding?"

Fortunately for the gypsy the door opened the moment the servant had finished her question, as Paulette entered the room. The maid mumbled hastily that the minister had told her to hurry up, as she handed to the gypsy a pair of dark, square-toed shoes of leather and asked her to put them on quickly. Esmeralda paused for a second, as if consumed in some kind of trance, but as she was shaken lightly by Paulette, who repeated her request impatiently, the girl automatically took the shoes and sat to put them on. As she was ready she stilled again numbly, but that did not last for long, as the older servant grabbed her for the hand and pulled her a little bit in order to make her follow her. The gypsy stood up and made a few steps, but then again stilled, as she made the maids, who were already at the door to turn and look at her impatiently again. Corrine suddenly felt as if her heart had stopped beating, as the horrified thought that the gypsy might act again irrationally due to what the maid had told her passed her mind. However, this time the thoughts and the decisions of the gypsy were far more chaotic and clueless, as she just stared at her feet with hope that she could at least gather enough strength to make it through the day. Suddenly she lifted her head and looked one more time her reflection in the big mirror. But now she did not see a celestial being or a marvelous gown; now the dress did not seem to make any difference; she saw only herself, as she sighed heavily and headed to the exit of the room, hoping that this image would be enough to keep her strong for what she was about to witness.

_**FROLLO**_ was still waiting for her downstairs. Since he had ordered to the maids to take her up and dress her he had not stopped randomly to wander the room, as thousands of thoughts were troubling him all at the same time. Of course he was more than curious to know where she had been the previous day; of course he had considered thousands of possibilities, but still it was quite surprising how he had neglected the idea that she might had met the ex-captain. No, he seemed to have convinced himself pretty well that the only sensible explanation for her actions was that she must have found some of her vermin friends, but eventually her fear for their lives had made her return back to him. He was more than sure that she would do exactly this, and yet the relief, which he felt just moments ago when she entered the house was beyond any describable words.

Nevertheless, she must be punished for her insubordination and the wedding of the ex-captain was the perfect opportunity for it. The minister did not know whether he wanted more to open her eyes about what a licentious man she loved, or just to cause her pain with the _shocking truth_, but he was more than determined in his choice of a _lesson_ for her. Of course Frollo had carefully considered the risk of his reputation when he was to be seen with her in a public place, but he figured that it was a small price to pay after all. And despite, he did not want her just to see the ex-captain taking another girl for his wife; he wanted also to make Phoebus jealous. The minister wanted to show her off to him, to rub her into his face, to prove him that he had won and Phoebus had lost, even though it was the wedding day of the soldier. And exactly that was most likely the reason of why he had bought the gypsy such an expensive gown- it was suiting perfectly to her beauty, but it also showed that he possessed her.

A noise coming from upstairs made the minister turn. The two servants came down quickly, followed by the mechanically walking gypsy a few steps behind them. Frollo stilled motionless, completely consumed by the incredible view, which he instantly believed it was not meant for a human eye. He observed her captivated as she took the last few steps and stood up numbly a little bit in front from the two servants, who had bent respectfully their heads before the minister. He automatically made a gesture, dismissing them, as they left the room not long after that, leaving the again sunken into despair girl and the enthralled by her beauty minister alone.

Frollo wordlessly slid slowly his eyes down her body, completely giving into the pleasurable view. The freely falling down skirt, and yet promising so much more underneath it; the tight corset around her body; the generously ample breasts above it; and the locks of raven hair, which were the only things covering some parts of her dark skin on her shoulders and the delightfully opened neckline; all that made the minister grow hard under his robe and to shake his determinism. For a moment he just wished to take her right there and then, and to conquer beyond pleasure every part of her curvaceous body. No, he had to wait; he had to take her to see with her own eyes the wedding of her _beloved_ one. Frollo was not sue anymore if that was supposed to be a punishment or a prove for something else; he just knew that he had to be more patient and to suppress down his carnal desires… at least for a few more hours.

He was silently staring at her for a few moments, but he seemed just now to realize her misfortunate, numb expression. Expression full with sadness, sorrow, grief, wretchedness, and giving up of life; expression similar to the one that he had observed in her the previous day while he was bedding her in the tower, and had suddenly made him feel unsatisfied no matter of how much he was possessing her body. But that had changed the moment he had let her walk freely outside, the moment she had tricked him; and yet, she had returned back to him with the same drained out of life and joy eyes, looking even more miserable if possible at all. For a moment he wondered if he was the reason, or there was something else; but he quickly scorned himself for feeling any concern for her at all. No, she disobeyed and now she must bear her consequences. He did not wish to care anymore neither for her sorrow nor for her despair; he believed he had done more than enough for her, and now it was her time to pleasure him.

Frollo smirked, expressing both great libidinous and malice, as he came closer to her and hissed coldly into her ear:

"Remember, my dear, when we are back I would expect you to work really hard to convince me not to proceed with my threats and burn the vermin you call friends."

Esmeralda shuddered with disgust, as she closed her eyes and turned her head a little bit away from him. However, she involuntary preferred far more the idea of staying in the house and pleasing the minister than the even more dreadful for her scenario of witnessing the marriage of the man she promised never to see again. No, she knew that Frollo would easily figure out her motives, and even worse, he could realize where she was last night and then surely half of Paris, including her, would be burned alive. She had to conceal as best as she could the fact that she knew that Phoebus was going to be married and the fact that the minister was taking her there right now.

She opened her eyes, as she hanged numbly her head on the side and stared the floor; it was going to be a painful day for her, and she even did not know the half of it….

The minister smirked again, as he coldly ordered her to follow him, and not long after that they were both in his carriage again on the way to the cathedral.

_**NOTRE DAME**_ was surprisingly serene that day. Now it was nearly noon and except the usual guard around the cathedral there could not be seen many other people outside. A shiver of both anxiety and pain ran through the gypsy as the minister abruptly pulled her out of the carriage. Suddenly she felt as if her entire body was giving up; as her legs could not hold her any longer and she would collapse any second consumed with weakness and despair. Her heart sank within her and her breath seized. For a moment she just stood numb before the cathedral, but the firm grip of the judge, who pulled her roughly closer to him, snapped her out of her dark trance.

The gypsy started to walk more decisively; she had finally made up her mind. The view that she was about to witness was inevitable, there was nothing that she could do to prevent it; now it was only left to face it with the best dignity that she could manage.

The big gate of the cathedral opened noisily, as it disturbed the quite stillness that was inside. A bright path of the opened door lighted the two figures that came inside silently, however they were not the object of the main attention in the building. The ceremony had already begun. The gypsy had again bent her head, unable to gain the courage to look in front of her. Frollo walked silently to the last row of the one side of pews, as he was still holding firmly the gypsy, who followed him obediently. They stood up behind it, hidden somewhat in the shadows, as the minister stared intensely at the scene that everybody seemed to observe. However, it had not past more than seconds before he had changed the focus of his attention, as he glanced impatiently towards the gypsy. She was still with bowed head, looking at her feet. He smirked slightly as he turned again to the altar.

Esmeralda's eyes were blindly staring at the floor. It was pretty quite around her, but every word in Latin, which was heard from the main scene of attention, was causing her a great distress and pain. However, her heart sank within her as the Latin chorus had finally stopped singing and a warm, familiar voice started with understandable for her words:

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in Paradise, and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined…"

The words of the Archdeacon were strong and clear, but suddenly they became to fade more and more into the gypsy's ears. He continued talking, but she did not listened anymore; she wanted to run away, to disappear, or even die. She was more than sure that from where she was standing no one could notice her, but a feeling that if she lifted her head her eyes would meet the ones of Phoebus was weighting in her chest.

The priest continued, as now his words were directed to the couple in front of him:

"I require and charge you both, as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, that you confess it. For you be well assured, that so many as be coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful."

Esmeralda stopped breathing; she could not help herself anymore, but to look. Her eyes slowly slid along the unfolding view before her. A beautiful aisle with red carpet was separating the two long columns of pews, which were now occupied by fairly rich people, whose eyes were focused on the altar. There, two bright figures, bathed in light were standing in front of the Archdeacon of Notre Dame. Her eyes immediately fell on the ex-captain, who was dressed with his parade uniform of a soldier and was warmly smiling at the girl next to him. He had not at all noticed the entrance of the gypsy, and right now she was not sure if that gave her more relief or disappointment.

A moment of silence filled up the cathedral as the Archdeacon had finally addressed both to the couple before him and the rest of the present people whit the words: "…Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

Frollo stared intensely with fires in his eyes of both vice and obsession towards the gypsy. Her entire attention was locked into the image of the ex-captain, as a single, hot tear rolled over her cheek and dropped onto the expensive, green gown that she was wearing. Nothing was going to happen; everything was real, true, and running fast right before her eyes. She felt unable to move or speak; frozen, captured, and forced to be imprisoned in the moment of her fading love. Nobody was going to prevent it; the ex-captain was not going to do anything against it. In less than a second the one was torn in two; the angel was separated into a man and a woman; the heaven collapsed; and the love was demolished.

"Lieutenant _Phoebus de Chateaupers_," the priest pronounced loudly, making the heart of the girl tremble with both pain and anxiety. Her eyes were still locked into the scene before her, but the minister was not interested into the wedding anymore. Since he had put his stare on the gypsy, he had not stopped to intensely study carefully every reaction of hers. The priest continued: "Wilt thou have this Woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"

Almost instantly, the deep, manly, and unhesitant voice of the ex-captain was heard:

"I will."

Esmeralda shivered; she wanted to run, to turn her head aside, or at least to close her eyes, but she could not. Something unknown was keeping her frozen to the proceeding events in front of her. She could only manage to shift her attention to the left side of Phoebus, where apparently everybody else was looking as well:

"Miss _Fleur_**-**_de_**-**_Lys de_ Gondelaurier," the Archdeacon started clearly, as suddenly all his words seized into Esmeralda's ears.

The gypsy stared numbly at the blessed creature, for which that day was all about. The cathedral was a temple of devotion to the Holy Virgin, but it was more than obvious that now another woman of virtue was the main object of worship and adoration. While the priest was repeating the same question, which he had asked just a moment ago the ex-captain, Esmeralda had more than desired time to have a good look at her replacement.

Within a second in the presence of Fleur-de-Lys it was more than obvious that she was a graceful, socialite, and wealthy young woman. But that day she was much more; she was entirely adorned and all glowing even beyond the light she possessed. The bridal gown, which she was wearing, itself was making the fair girl shine with rays of magnificence and elegance. A velvet surcoat of bright candlelight cream was delicately flowing closely all the way down her body, as it was emphasizing on all the beauty of her feminine, slender structure. A long train of the skirt was lying on the floor behind her, making her look even more divine and angelic. The entire light, cream, and velvet surcoat was adorned with glided ornaments, resembling very much golden suns. The sleeves were long, loose, and freely flowing around her thin arms, which she had folded and gracefully placed her soft, fair hands into the big ones of the ex-captain. The surcoat was pretty much closed in front, leaving her a modest "V" neckline, as a wide, loose, glided belt was surrounding the lower part of her waist and the rest of it was freely falling down. Most of her back and shoulders were covered with locks of long, blond hair, which was adorned with a garland of white flowers around her head. The dress beneath the velvet gown was not much seen except the parts on her arms, which the loose sleeves failed to conceal, and the two gradually separating sides of the surcoat in front. There, the light, silk, and entirely covered with gilt dress was lightening and converting the simple, fair girl into a sun goddess.

She was simply a fair creature of grace, nobility, and beauty. No wonder that she had so easily enchanted the people in the cathedral, directing their worshipping of the Blessed Mary to herself; no wonder that it was not difficult to steal as well the love, which Phoebus claimed to have for the gypsy.

Esmeralda just now realized that the priest had finished talking and they were all waiting for the response of the bride.

"I will," Fleur-de-Lys said with confident voice, which failed to fake humility.

The gypsy numbly witnessed as the priest handed Phoebus a ring, which he placed first upon her thumb, then upon her index finger and finally upon her ring finger, mechanically repeating the vow that the Archdeacon had though him. Then, they both kneeled.

"Let us pray," the priest started. "O Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing upon these thy servants…"

Esmeralda felt sinking motionlessly; she was staring intensely, but she could not see anything before her, she was listening, but she could not hear anything around her. She was more than sure that the minister was absorbing every reaction of hers; that he was studying her and with every past moment she was risking him finding what had happened with her the previous day. But she did not care about it anymore; somehow it had stopped to be of any relevance right now.

The couple stood up as the priest had finished saying the prayer of "Our Father." He joined their right hands, as he proclaimed:

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."

The newly wedded kissed; a kiss between two beautiful creatures, a kiss that was not taken indifferently by the misfortunate gypsy; and a kiss that finalized a deal of love, faith, and greed.

The ceremony was over and everybody cheered the couple, who turned and walked happily towards the exit. Esmeralda stopped breathing, feeling as her heartbeat increased more and more with every approaching step of the ex-captain and his wife towards her. The gypsy became unease; suffocating, distressed, and feeling as if her heart would break her chest. And then there it was… In a moment everything seized; paralyzed when all her emotions had reached its peak and were now all fervently burning inside of her. Phoebus' attention had been finally drawn over her; his warm, dark eyes locked into her green, misfortunate ones, as the smile of his face vanished, replaced by the mingling of shock, fear, incomprehension, and disbelief. The few seconds appeared both not enough and too much for the former lovers. The seized moment unfolded, separating the stunned stares between them, and leaving many unanswered questions and feelings in both the gypsy and the ex-captain.

Before Phoebus could comprehend fully what his eyes had seen Fleur-de-Lys on his right side, her mother nearby and most of the happy crowd urged him to continue walking, as they along with most than half of the present people left the holy place smiling, congratulating the new couple, and lively talking about the lovely ceremony.

Esmeralda's eyes were fixed on the opened gate, where she had seen her lover leave, as he had gradually disappeared from her view. Nevertheless, she still did not seem to be able to break the stare. Somewhere in the distance she heard the _Grosse Mary_, the big bell of the cathedral ring cheerfully, announcing the marriage of the couple. Now Quasimodo as well knew about the humiliating truth that the gypsy had given her heart to a man, who was engaged to someone else…

All that pain, disappointment, and broken love; the gypsy felt the need to follow, as if an unseen bound was joining her with misery and pulling her towards it. The dazed girl made mechanically a few steps towards the door along with the still exiting crowd. Suddenly, the cold grip of the minister made her snap out of her despaired trance, as she turned towards him, forcing the tears in her burning eyes not to spill over her cheeks.

Frollo pulled her roughly closer to him, as he sneered with disgust:

"Where do you think you are going?"

"I don't want to be here anymore," the gypsy said with controlled voice, which however failed to conceal her distress and overflowing emotions. The minister smirked with triumph.

"Does that mean that you are ready to return at my house," he hissed with a sinister voice. Esmeralda looked lifelessly at the floor, as she closed her eyes and nodded faintly, which made another pleasurable smile to slide across the minister's face. "Not just yet," he said acutely, as he crushed the hopes of the gypsy to end that day as fast as she could. "I am a public official; it would be inconsiderate on my part not to give my regards to the newly wedded couple."

The minister had carefully observed her through the entire ceremony. Her motionless body, her green wet eyes, and her disappointment towards the ex-captain had given him some kind of content and pleasure, which he had not felt before. But that was not enough; he did not consider the _lesson _done; he wanted more; he wanted to make sure that the girl would remember well that day. However, there was another motive as well behind his actions. Of course Frollo was concerned about his reputation and did not desire to be seen with a gypsy; but now Esmeralda was more than just a _heathen girl_. She was a prize; a beautiful one, which the minister considered he had taken from the ex-captain. Their looks did not pass unnoticed from Frollo, but in fact he wanted more than just that. He wanted to confront Phoebus; to provoke him; to reassure his victory and the soldier's lost; therefore his _lesson_ was still going on.

"Minister Frollo, it is quite an honor indeed to see you have succeeded to attend the happiest day of my daughter," a richly dressed woman, which seemed familiar to the gypsy, spoke to the minister in courteous fashion, however more than once indiscreetly staring with interest at his companion.

Madame Gondelaurier was standing not far from the cathedral along with her daughter and her new son in law, who were kindly showing their gratitude to the people, who desired to congratulate their marriage after the wedding. The mentioning of the minister's name made both the bride and her husband direct their attention now at the approached them judge, who had dropped the arm of the gypsy, leaving her a little bit behind him. He thanked politely the widow for her kind words, as between him, the bride, and her mother started a complementary prologue, where they pretentiously exchanged congratulating words for the marriage and the ceremony.

Neither Esmeralda nor Phoebus was in any condition of really listening at what they were saying. When still in the cathedral the gypsy had realized that Frollo would not make it any easier for her and she must bear it all. Now she seemed she had accepted her fate with listless despair, as she had let herself numbly to be dragged by the minister to the present scene, and after he had dropped her arm she had remained at her place, blankly staring the ex-captain with mixture of sorrow, indifference, hatred, pride, and weakness in her eyes.

On his turn Phoebus was as well distant from the happening now moment, as his stare seemed sunk into the gypsy, however his expression and emotions were rather different from hers. The stunned, surprised, and disbelieving soldier was looking at her incomprehensively. Since the morning, when she had pushed him off and left him alone in the small and put in disorder room, he truly believed that he would never see her again. Perhaps the ex-captain loved her in his own way, but he knew more than well that his actions would devastate her and push her away from him. He was more than willing to help her escape, but she had refused him. However, despite that he was convinced that she would not return to him for help, he was more than sure that she would leave the city with somebody else's assistance. He had never suspected that she would return back to the minister, he did not understand that at all, and moreover, he did not expect to see them both together at his wedding day.

However, the incomprehensiveness and disappointment from her actions was not what was keeping his eyes captivated in her. She was the most beautiful girl, who he had ever seen, but now she was looking more than stunning. The silk, dark, green gown that she was wearing was closely emphasizing every part of her gorgeous body, pleasurably suggesting so much more beneath it. The dress was making her eyes look ever bigger, greener, and more dazzling than ever; and the glowing decorations all over her were making her raven hair beautifully to contrast with them. She looked unearthly, celestial, and irresistible. Just seeing her again made Phoebus fascinated, enchanted, and completely consumed by every part of her; his worries, considerations, and thoughts vanished, as his mind and eyes could only perceive the splendid view before him.

"But that is such an honor, is it not, my dear love," the ex-captain succeeded to hear Fleur-de-Lys saying, who from some time now was making unsuccessful attempts to draw her husband's attention.

The conversation, which she was having with her mother and the minister had long ago past the courteous prologue of compliments, as now Madame Gondelaurier had withdrawn from the discussion, talking with another guest from the wedding, and the minister and Fleur-de-Lys were now discussing a quite different matter. However, since the moment Frollo had arrived with the beautifully dressed gypsy the bride had not even for a second forgot about her. The young, fair girl had more than jealously noticed the looks that her husband and the other girl exchanged, and she had purposely directed the conversation to a subject, which she hoped would interest Phoebus. But her efforts were quite fruitless, as nothing seemed to break the _spell_, which the unknown for her gypsy had cast on him. Fleur-de-Lys was more than curious to learn about the mysterious beauty, but thousands and more reasons of etiquette and manners were stopping her of placing the question directly to the judge.

"What is it," Phoebus succeeded to produce, gathering more his senses and wishing to have heard at least something of what they were talking about.

"But my gentle husband, did you not hear anything of what we were discussing," his wife said with tender scornfulness, however her impatience was showing clearly. "Minister Frollo just gave us probably the most precious wedding gift of all and you were not even listening." Phoebus looked doubtfully at the minister, who had his usual authoritative stiffness, and then back at Fleur-de-Lys. After a short pause, the fair girl continued: "My beloved one, the minister had just offered to return you back your previous position and status in the king's army. Is it not just so generous of him?"

The statement of the bride now made both the gypsy and Phoebus to turn with surprise, disbelief, and suspicion to the confident and haughty minister.

"Yes," the ex-captain drawled with reserved and distrustful voice, "generous. And why would you do that?"

Frollo smirked dominantly:

"Is there a reason not to do it," he asked cynically.

The tension between the two men was growing more and more, and Fleur-de-Lys felt left out of the conversation, which in fact had never been about her.

"But, minister, you have completely forgotten to introduce us to your companion," the girl broke up the tensed silence, as she could not help it, but demand to know something more about her beautiful rival, who seemed to receive more glances and attention from the two men than the bride herself.

Frollo looked slightly at Esmeralda, whose attention was now drawn to Fleur-de-Lys, as he smirked and then looked again seriously at the fair girl.

"Well then, I beg for your forgiveness; how thoughtless of me to assume that if the _captain_ knows her you would as well," Frollo said, lending to all his words a pretentious, accented extension.

The effect of the title, which the minister gave to Phoebus would probably have more positive or significant effect, if it was not used in a sentence, which made the bride to jealously shift her attention to her husband, whose eyes wandered restlessly from his wife to the surprised and apparently expecting something gypsy.

"My dear husband, do you know her," the fair girl demanded. Phoebus felt unease, but Frollo spoke up before the _captain_ had the chance to decide what to reply:

"Yes, he does. In fact, captain, why don't you introduce her to you wife," touch of scorn, harsh and hallow pleasantry was clearly recognized in the minister's words. There was a pause, in which all stares were fixed on the soldier.

"Ahh…this is Esmeralda," Phoebus said turning to Fleur-de-Lys, not really wishing to address his wife before the gypsy with any names, which signified affection or any kind of unit.

"And does this _Esmeralda_ has a family name," the noble girl asked with note of ridicule, clearly knowing the answer, but not really being able to think of any other way to make herself appear more than the exotic beauty. Her husband surely seemed to struggle to answer that question as well as he preferred not to let the gypsy to be mocked, but at the same time he did not wish to add additional oil to the flames of feminine jealousy, which his wife had for the other girl.

"No, she doesn't," Esmeralda replied quietly, but confidently for herself, releasing Phoebus from the burden of making a choice.

Frollo just glanced at her with a contented smirk, as he examined as well the expressions of the newly wedded couple. He was probably the only one that was truly enjoying the situation.

"Oh well, she was able to talk," Fleur-de-Lys said with a smile, trying to sound playfully, but rather turning into a mean and jealous tone. Esmeralda narrowed her eyes. "Don't perceive me wrong, little girl," the bride continued with light and teasing ridicule, "but observing you standing there all silent and quiet, it would be not entirely incorrect to presume that the timidity in you comes from a lack of social abilities."

Phoebus was dully observing them, wishing to stand for the gypsy, but not really knowing if that was a wise idea at all. Esmeralda clenched her teeth in irritation; she was not to be ridiculed from some spoiled and arrogant girl.

"Miss Fleur-de-Lys, before going anywhere further, please do recall that humility is considered a valuable virtue in the eyes of God," Frollo drawled with his usual low voice, disturbing the silent tension of jealousy between the gypsy and the wife of the captain.

Esmeralda looked stunned at the untouched, cold expression of the minister. Was what she had just heard him saying even possible? Had he just defended her? Had he just said that she possessed a virtue?

"But of course, minister," the bride replied quietly with respect and embarrassment. It was more than obvious that she was not used to be given heathens for example of a good faith, but even if she did not possess humility, she knew remarkably well when was the time to bow and imitate such.

"Very well then," Frollo started with content and hallow courteous, "I would like again to congratulate you both for the marriage and the lovely ceremony. Also, I would like to welcome you, _captain_ Phoebus, officially back in the army of the city. Congratulations and let us only hope that your marriage would be as _profitable_ as promised," the minister grinned cynically at the reserved soldier, who was looking at him with spite.

"At least I'll have more than pretended night, which was bargained for an hour of freedom," Phoebus talked back confidently with repulsion, perhaps not entirely realizing the fatal damage of his words.

Esmeralda's eyes enlarged, as she lifted them from the ground, staring disbelievingly at the captain. Her heart sank within her, as her breath seized. Her eyes were full with terror, incredulity, and accusation towards the captain, who was still watching boldly the minister. The gypsy did not dare to look aside her and see Frollo's reaction; she knew that it was pointless now to try to conceal what was already said, but she simply did not think herself capable of facing him.

"But gentle love, you are not making any sense," Fleur-de-Lys said to Phoebus, unnoticing any of the fiercely emotions that were burning around her.

"On the contrary, miss, he is making a perfect sense," Frollo drawled with freezing voice, which made a cold shiver of fright to run through the gypsy. His eyes were piercing at the ones of the captain, as another heavy silence followed.

"My lovely daughter and son," a side voice was heard, as Madame Gondelaurier approached the newly wedded couple, "as loving as it is to stay here, we better head to our house. Your wedding celebration had not yet started, and I am sure that about now everyone awaits your appearance."

"Well then, I better not occupy more of your time," the minister said dryly, considering that the perfect opportunity to take his leave.

"But would you not attend at the celebration in our humble home," the mother of Fleur-de-Lys asked pretentiously.

"As much as I liked to I could not; I believe that right now another urging matter require my attention," Frollo replied coldly, as he glanced for a second viciously at the still motionless gypsy.

"I understand, but I beg you to excuse us, it would be better if we leave now," Madame Gondelaurier said distracted and hastily, as she took the arms of the new couple, urging them to follow her. Fleur-de-Lys produced something as a goodbye, as she followed her mother obediently. Phoebus, still without truly realizing the damage of his words, glanced at the gypsy hesitantly for a last time, and then wordlessly went after his wife and mother in law.

Esmeralda numbly watched the back of the captain as he got in a carriage and disappeared from her view. The gypsy wondered if she would ever see him again… She sensed the cold, firm grip of the minister on her arm, who slowly urged her to move. She followed obediently, numbly entering the carriage and seeing for the first time his expression. It was surprisingly tranquil, confident, and doubtless; but there was no hesitation in her that he had realized that she and Phoebus had shared a bed the previous day and now she would face the consequences of an action, which she had already regretted of doing.

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A/N: Ok, I just wanted to say that even though we all know that Phoebus is a blond jerk, in the Disney version he was the "night in shiny armors" so I could not really ignore that. This Phoebus is something between the one from the novel and the Disney, so he'll have definitely a controversial part in the story.

For the second title I thought it was kind of suiting the chapter, as it not only talks about Esme and Fleur, but also stresses that the gypsy is to Frollo (as he is the one that gives her the dress) and the other girl is to Phoebus (as her dress is with sun decorations)

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed it and I'll try to finish the other sooner!

PS: The next chapter's name is Wrath ;)


	15. Wrath

A/N: Oh well, it feels so long since the last time I updated... Sorry about that, but just one thing to say- hate traveling and airports!

Anyway... As always thanks for the wonderful reviews! Also thanks for the eye opening about the 10th chapter; I have totally forgot about the potato coming from America in the beginning of the 16th century and for years being mostly common for the lower classes. I got to admit it was a little bit difficult to come up with something similar, because the rich in the Middle Ages did not really ate much of vegetables... Nevertheless, I changed the potatoes with onions and I hope that will work out

About this chapter:

WARNING: The chapter may contain sexual themes, strong language, rape, and so on and so on... Just saying if you don't like it don't read it.

Well, I don't think there's something else to say, so here we go...

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Wrath:

When the carriage stopped before the house of the minister it seemed to the frightened gypsy as if they had arrived too fast at the place. Her heartbeat increased, as she found herself trembling. Esmeralda had not dared to look at Frollo during the entire time of the travel, except for the one time when she got in the carriage. Thousands of fears and worries were wildly spinning in her head, not leaving her at peace even for a second. She wondered what he would do to her; she feared for the life of herself, the gypsies, her friend Quasimodo, and even for Phoebus, for who she was not sure what she felt anymore. The gypsy did not know what she was supposed to do now; she knew that he would ask her sooner or later whether she had been with the captain the previous night or not, but exactly the slowly passing moments in suspense was what was giving her even greater anxiety. By the time the carriage stopped moving, the gypsy had changed her mind at least ten times about whether she would admit or lie; plead for mercy crying or deny it boldly again and again; be ashamed or proud. She even considered whether it would be best if she just devoted herself completely into the minister's lust, gratifying every wish of his and hoping that it would be enough to persuade him to spare her life and the one of her friends. But that was rather unlikely; now she was more than sure that lust was not the burning vice of the minister. No; his heart was now guided by far greater and more devastating thunders of human emotions; jealousy, rage, disgust, and wrath was all well hidden beneath the surface of his cold, indifferent expression.

"Get out of the carriage," Frollo commanded to the frozen girl, as she abruptly snapped out of her thoughts.

During the way to his house he had not spoken to her even once. In fact, since Phoebus had so tactlessly provoked the minister, revealing him the truth of where the gypsy had spent the night, Frollo had not said anything to the girl. He had well disguised the bursting inside him anger when he was speaking with the newly wedded couple and Madame Gondelaurier, but now the gypsy felt that his voice was less self-controlled. She obeyed and slowly got out, following him silently in the house. The minister led her upstairs to his bedroom as he opened the door and let her inside. He did not touch her even once. His eyes traced her wordlessly as he waited her to enter before he followed her, locking the door behind him.

Esmeralda had made a few steps in the room, creating a fairly big distance between her and the door. She turned and faced the judge with both fear and boldness. He turned towards her slowly, as his expression was even more than usually austere and cold. After a moment of stillness, the minister walked determinedly to her, as he seemed completely devoted in something between enchantment and a great suppressed wrath. He stopped before her, sensing intensely the presence of her delightful form, which was so close before him. For a long moment he appeared entirely consumed in thoughts, as his eyes were restlessly moving all over her, considering and studying even the smallest motion of hers. She was still watching him, but the sunken head into her shoulders, the increased heartbeat, and the trembling legs, which were barely holding her standing, were all well suggesting that she was above all feeling defenseless and scared in his presence than anything else.

The minister knew well all that, but he did not seem to care. His thoughts, his mind, and his entire body were begging him to cause her pain; to make her pay for what she had done; and to force her to regret for the pleasure, which she had shared with the captain. He wanted more than anything else to witness her being crashed and devastated by the power of his scourge; the scourge of envy and wrath, which had not stopped tormenting him since he had realized that the gypsy had given herself to another man. And yet, when he was looking at her hesitant, emerald green eyes, all his anger seemed only to be able to paralyze him speechless before her.

Frollo breathed heavily, as he clenched tightly his fists and gritted his teeth in order to control the already unbearable ocean of wrath in him. She was so close to him; standing entirely frightened, guilty, wrong, and sinful. She had to be punished and he wanted to do it; he needed it; and yet his heart desired nothing, but to hold her tightly into his arms and to have all the sinful pleasures of the beauty in front of him. He lifted his still in fist hand, directing it to her face, but stopped in the middle of the way hesitantly. His mind was burning with the need to punish her for her sins, but his eyes could only see the splendid view before him.

She was still with the magnificent, silk-green dress, which he made her wear for the wedding. Some of her dark locks of hair were marvelously falling on her soft skin, but her half-way-up hair was emphasizing even more on her beautiful facial features. She was looking like a divine angel; and yet, an angel, who had just committed a disgustful act of crime, polluting the pure light that she possessed. How was even possible for the minister to experience such a controversial emotions towards her all at the same time? He desired her so strongly and yet he wanted to destroy completely her body of delight; he wanted her to respond to his passion, and yet all that he could think of is that she had responded first to the captain. All those scourging in him emotions, all those unrealized needs and anger were heatedly surging in him; tearing, devastating, and making him lose any sense of reality.

Suddenly his hand abruptly reached to her face, as he ran roughly his fingers through her hair, grabbing it firmly into his grip. He pulled her head a little bit upper and pushed it harshly towards his burning lips, immediately shoving insensitively his lustful tongue into her mouth. He consumed her entirely, passionately, hungrily, and thirstily, as if he was struggling for air and she was the only oxygen in the room. His kiss was rough, fervent, impatient, yearning, begging for a reaction back, and yet punishing.

The gypsy was numb and irresponsive as always. Her heart had sunk within her, and even though she wished more than anything else to pull back from him, she did not dare to do anything in fear.

Frollo broke up the kiss, gasping for air. He breathed very closely to her, as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead onto hers. Her head was bent lifelessly towards the floor. The minister, not changing his position and still holding her firmly, pulled abruptly and roughly her hair back, making her lift her face a little bit. Esmeralda inhaled and ceased her breath with pain, as she tried to suppress as much as she could the cry, which tried to escape her lips. Frollo, still with closed eyes, rubbed slowly his face onto hers, as he drawled with freezing hatred:

"Kiss me back at once or I swear, God is my witness, I shall burn every gypsy in this city."

He paused, still very close to her, and he looked at her. Her eyes were closed with pain, as her expression was struggling to suppress the cries that were begging to escape her lips. He loosened a little bit his grip, but it was continuing to be very firm and harming her, as his lips reached again for hers, but stopped for a second very closely to her. His eyes slid restlessly all over her face, examining it thoroughly. Then, he pressed himself hard to her and yearningly shoved his tongue into her mouth for a second time. Their moist blended into one as he fervently and persistently moved inside of her.

Esmeralda, all shivering and sunken into fear, succeeded barely to produce a slight respond. Her tongue traveled softly around his, as her mouth opened more and her dampened lips joined with his in an anxious kiss. His heart trembled, as he let himself for a little moment entirely into the received, small content.

The minister suddenly grabbed her roughly and painfully by the shoulders, as he pulled her from him.

"Where did you spend the previous night," he hissed franticly, lost in rage and disgust, and severely squeezing the gypsy in his firm grips.

She bitted her lip in order not to scream with pain. She lifted her large, green eyes from the floor, directing them to him with hatred.

"You know where I've been," she clenched through her teeth with trembling, but spiteful voice.

She did not know what to say; the lies were pointless, but the idea of saying the truth out loudly hurt even more. The previous night was a mistake, and from what she witnessed the following day of course she regretted for ever giving herself to the captain; but she felt too proud to admit it before Frollo. Her wet eyes were looking boldly at him, as she added after a pause:

"What do you want me to say?"

The minister was staring her wildly, consumed in a tornado of emotions, mingled between lust and wrath. His eyes were restlessly examining every inch of her. Yes, he had realized painfully well where she had gone when she had escaped him; and yes, the fact that she did not even bothered to deny it enraged him even more; however, he honestly did not know what he wanted her to say. He clutched his fingers firmer into her arms. The room was in perfect stillness, disturbed only by the sound of their intense breathing. He hesitated; what did he really want?

After a pause, he roughly pulled her back to him, as he made another deep, passionate, and violent kiss. Somewhere between the harsh and aggressive motions of his mouth, he sensed a mere response by her, perhaps too frightened what would happen if she did otherwise… Nevertheless, his rage had reached its peak.

In a second he pushed her off him and smacked her brutally through her face, making her legs to fail her and her body to collapse under the sudden and vicious force of his slap.

"Whore," he clenched through his teeth with rage and disgust.

Esmeralda abruptly shifted her head towards him, as she had placed her hand over her cheek, where he had hit her. Her eyes were enlarged and sparkling from the hot tears in them, as her breath was sporadic, shocked, and frightened.

"Drab! Vixen, bitch" Frollo hissed louder and louder.

He ceased for a moment, madly sunken in the consuming him wrath. He felt entirely trembling by rage; his eyes were not able to see anything before him anymore; and in his ears his abusive words towards her were echoing over and over again. He felt weak, pathetic; completely given in the vice of jealousy and the lust for destruction. His hand was aching from the violent encounter with her face, but his tightened fists begged him to continue with the physical _justice_.

"You, little hellish temptress," he continued transforming his face into pure revulsion.

All of a sudden, the minister leaned towards her, roughly clutching her wrists, as she automatically lifted her hands in a hopeless attempt to protect herself from his fury. He excruciatingly twisted them, making her whimper miserably. Frollo abruptly and harshly pulled her up and even before she could have the chance to step on her feet, he dragged and pressed her closely to the nearest wall, hitting and causing her incredible pain. His hands banged hers ruthlessly to the cold stone, as she felt that they would break under his insensitive strength and force. She screamed louder, not helping herself to resist any further at his violence. He immediately pressed himself to her, as his lips and tongue forcefully shoved into her crying mouth, silencing her screams.

Frollo was more abusive, obsessed, rude, and fervent than ever before. Esmeralda agonizingly felt how his teeth pressed harder onto her soft lips; moving all over, hurting, and bruising them. His tongue tangled with her unmoving one; he continued even harsher, he did not care anymore for her numbness. He stretched his tongue deeper and deeper into her, reaching for every moist that he could get from her.

The minister pulled roughly from her, as he took a few moments to recover his lost breath.

"Wanton slut," he drawled coldly, now with more even temper, as he slid restlessly his eyes from her crying face down to her neck and breasts. His breaths were still heavy and unequal, as he leaned again towards her, closing and rubbing his covered in sweat face onto her cheek. The minister inhaled lustfully the scent of her hair, which by now had lost its hairstyle, and was freely and messily falling all over the girl's shoulders and face. "Tramp, gypsy wench," he hissed spitefully into her ear, making her all shiver and tremble with disgust. He was still pinning her arms painfully to the wall, as his eyes shift from her hair down to the generously opened neckline and beneath the tight gown, which from that view was revealing more than enough from her breasts. "Streetwalker, a concubine of vice, harlot…," he continued mumbling with disgust, as his words were getting more and more indistinct between his heavy breaths.

Frollo felt the unease pleasure between his legs, as a shiver of lust ran through his spine. He pressed harder to her, not helping himself, but wanting to feel her tender form close to his. He turned, as his moistened lips touched the dark, soft skin on her cheek; passionately, sluggishly, and fervently continuing his kisses down her chin, neck, and shoulder. He fervently dropped her pinned-to-the-wall wrists, freeing his hands to take hold of the gown's neckline, frantically pulling it aside, and revealing more of her delightful shoulder. He paused, taking his breath deeply for a second, as he leaned again towards her, thirsting and sinking his lips, teeth, and tongue into her exposed, bare shoulder.

Esmeralda whimpered with pain miserably, but not daring to do anything more; indeed, her arms were now free, and yet even though her mind was screaming to use them and pull him off her, her body was stubbornly refusing to move. She numbly felt his hardening member near her thigh and closed her eyes. Was it over; was his wrath done? Would he continue punishing her, or now he would like some different form of physical satisfaction? Was she supposed to respond him; was she even able to?

All those questions were wildly running across her mind, as the minister was now slowly and passionately rubbing his forehead, cheeks, and lips over her already more than half revealed breasts. His hands traveled down her chest, stomach, waist, and hips, roughly grabbing them and separating them more and more as in the same time he was pressing to her groin more and more. The gypsy turned her head in front, as her scared eyes looked below her, seeing the minister's head and feeling his moistened tongue going between her breasts. He suddenly changed his direction, rubbing again onto her soft skin above her chest, as he pulled a little bit off her, looking her straight at her eyes.

"I want you to say it," he hissed disgusted, breathing heavily and exhaustedly from all the controversial feelings in him. She did not move or said anything; she continued staring him blindly. His hands shifted abruptly from her hips to her waist as he firmly grabbed her, taking and hitting her even harsher to the wall. She screamed with pain. "I want you to say it," he repeated louder.

"What," she cried out miserably, "what do you want me to say!"

"What were you doing last night," he asked full with repulsion, rage, and loathing. "I want you to hear you saying it," he added spitefully, not separating his wild eyes from her face.

Esmeralda turned aside, as she closed her eyes, not letting another hot tear escaped them. She bitted her lip, remaining silent.

"Say it," Frollo clenched through his teeth, losing more and more the temper of his voice. The gypsy shook her head in refusal. "Say it," he urged her harsher, as he hit her body again to the stone wall.

"No," she cried out weakly.

The pain, the humiliation, and the knowing that saying out loudly that she had spent the night with Phoebus would only lead to more of the minister's wrath made the girl refuse stubbornly to speak out.

"Damn you, filthy whore, say it," he yelled for a third time impatiently, dropping her down, but clutching her hard by the arms and succeeding to hold her before she had collapsed miserably.

The gypsy turned her crying face towards him with wet, closed eyes, as she shook slowly her head.

"No, please, no," she cried out pleadingly, humiliated and hurt. "Please… don't make me do this…"

Frollo's burning eyes were entirely devouring her. His grip loosened, as he pressed himself again very tightly to her, and placed his lips onto hers. His kiss was forceful, strong, and yet far more gentle and devoted to her than his other ones. His fingers slid up her shoulders and tangled into her hair, as he pressed her firmer to him. The gypsy scarcely moved her tongue against his, hoping that her compliance would distract him from his command to her. The minister continued passionately, consuming as much as he could from her soft, warm, and moistened mouth.

Very slowly, but determinedly, his spread, tangled fingers in her hair, clutched together, as he relatively gently pulled her by the hair off him, interrupting their kiss. His forehead rested on her wet face, as he breathed heavily. His lips and tongue returned very slightly to her mouth, sporadically touching and tracing the wet and salty from her tears skin on and around it. The gypsy had barely opened her eyes, as she closed them again and a hot tear rolled over her face. Frollo rubbed his cheek fervently onto hers, wiping the tear away.

"Say it," he hissed spitefully with low and controlled voice into her year.

"Please, no," she faintly whispered.

Frollo grabbed and pulled firmer her hair, as his other hand traveled roughly to her breasts, rubbing harshly and fervently one of them. His throbbing manhood pressed even harder between her legs.

"Say it," he commanded. She scarcely shook her head. He pushed her harder with all his strength, as she felt that she could not breathe anymore. "Say it, you slut," he ordered louder, making his hand on her chest go downer, causing excruciating pain to the gypsy wherever it traveled. He reached the down part of her stomach, as he continued further, ruthlessly pushing away her thigh and grabbing her between her legs. He lifted her upper, as with his other hand he hit her head to the wall with incredible hatred, which made her cry loudly with pain. "Gypsy tramp, say it!"

Esmeralda cried out louder.

"I fucked him," she yelled with all her left strength, making the minister weaken his hold and to give some distance between them. He was looking her with rage, disgust, and spite, but she continued, still crying, however now looking at her torturer boldly: "Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine! I fucked Phoebus and it was the most passionate, loving, and content night that I have ever shared with a man! Did you want to hear that, too, did you?"

"You, insolent whore," Frollo clenched through his teeth lost in disgust, jealousy, and wrath.

The minister backed up a few steps abruptly from her, letting her step on her feet, but still holding her. All of a sudden she had become dirty, filthy, and wretched in his eyes. He felt as if he could not stand her anymore; he felt that her words were unbearable, and the disgustful flashing images of the captain bedding and pleasuring her made the minister sick. The rage completely consumed him; it was having entire control over his body, and was dictating all of his actions.

In a second the gypsy was brutally pulled and pushed down forcefully by the incredible strength of the minister, as he coldly threw her to the floor, observing her as she miserably collapsed. Esmeralda fell down facing the floor. She barely succeeded to get on her hands and knees, as she tried to catch her breath.

"How dare you speak to me in that way," Frollo continued with cold and full with hatred voice. "Filthy, promiscuous, and degenerated gypsy bitch." In a second he found himself standing above her collapsed body. "Slut," he clenched through his teeth, as even before she could have the chance to realize herself a sudden, sharp, and painful kick went through her legs.

She did not have the chance to scream, as another one crushed her arms, making her cry out in shock and drop her entire body miserably on the floor. The gypsy writhedin pain, as he obsessively got down to her. He grabbed and pulled up her hair, as her crying face rose above the floor and he closed his face to her.

"Foolish whore," he sneered hatefully, "that moron you call a man just wanted to stick his dick into something before marrying and you just happened to be on his way. Harlot! Slut!"

Frollo dropped her head, forcefully throwing it to the floor. Esmeralda tried to resist and pull herself from the cold stones, but it was pointless. Before she could do anything, the minister put sturdily his knee on her back, compressing her even more to the floor. His hand forced her neck down, as he climbed on her, pressing his entire body to her struggling and harmed one.

"You have the impudence to tell me that he had pleased you well, have you not," the minister hissed spitefully between the fights to hold her still and his sporadic, heavy breaths. "Well, my little temptress, you should have learned by now, your happiness is of no importance to me! I owe you and you better comply with my wishes!"

Esmeralda moved underneath him as much as she could, but she barely made any difference. His strong, rough, and much broader than her body was compressing her pretty well to the floor. Frollo's hand quickly slid to her shoulder, going underneath her dress.

"I tried to treat you gently, but you are no worthy for this," he hissed lost in rage and jealousy. His fingers clutched harder into her skin, making her bit her lips in excruciating pain. "No, you proved to me you are just a common whore, and now you deserve to be treated as such!"

He took hold of the garment, abruptly pulling it and ripping the back of the beautiful silk gown, which had already started to fall apart. His other hand moved impatiently down her body, and started gathering the cloth of her skirt. He positioned her weak body between his legs. The gypsy, still faced the floor, sensed with horror the sense of coldness that ran along her legs, which were now fully uncovered. She made another hopeless attempt to escape his grip, as one of her frantic legs felt his hardened member pressed on the back of it, but she knew better that he was not finished punishing her.

The minister's hand, which had finished tearing and pushing away the number of layers from her dress slid roughly between her objecting legs. He insensitively moved his cold finger all over her genitals. He closed his face to the soft, disposed skin on her back, rubbing himself up to her hair and neck.

"I'll teach you a lesson, gypsy slut," he drawled with disgust.

"Let go of me," Esmeralda cried out hopelessly. Her entire body was wounded, bruised, and abused; she was frightened, hurt, and terrified by every move of his. She was barely succeeding to breathe anymore, crashed under the pressure of his body. She did not want to cry, scream, or plead, but she could not take any more either. "Please, no," she whimpered miserably, as he pushed painfully one of his fingers into her dry opening.

"Don't you like it, little whore," he sneered hatefully in her ear. "And this, do you like this?"

The minister added another finger to the first one, harshly moving the two of them and causing her to whimper louder and louder. She started to move more and more restlessly her shoulders and body, in hopes to escape him. She became more unease and hard to control underneath him, as the already covered in sweat and heavy breathing minister barely could hold her anymore. With another rapid move, the girl succeeded to shift her body over, rolling on her back, but still firmly pressed by the minister above her.

"Slut, don't you dare make another move," Frollo barked impatiently, as he pulled out roughly his fingers from her and directed his hand to her face.

He clutched her cheeks and harshly pinned her head to the stoned floor. She tried to scream, but she could not; she could not even move anymore. Esmeralda was painfully feeling his strong grip on her face; the pressing down and suffocating her elbow on her chest; and the squeezing her legs of the minister around her hips.

Frollo moved his free hand to the collar of his gown, as he started to unbutton it, when at the same time he was still fighting to keep her objecting body under control.

"You'll have me, wretched whore, you'll have me even if you don't like it," he clenched through his teeth, heavily breathing.

Frollo had opened nearly half of his gown as his hand reached again to her, wanting to decrease her frantic motions. Too late; Esmeralda had realized that it was of no use to try to push him away, but instead she succeeded to slide herself up and to partially escape his grip. The minister grabbed beastly her waist, it was as far as his hands got, as he roughly started to drag her resisting body back into his possession.

"Little slut, where are you thinking you are going," he gasped spitefully, clutching his fingers harder into her.

She sobbed loudly in pain and pulled her head backwards to suppress at least all the other screams and cries, which were urging to escape her lungs. She became more hysteric, frenzied, and desperate than ever; her head was wildly tossing in all directions and her arms and legs were pushing and kicking him even though she knew more than well that her strength was not enough to cause him any significant damage.

"Stop moving me and lay still like the common whore you are," Frollo spat impatiently, overwhelmed with the lust to thrust his throbbing member into her warm from the struggles body.

She shifted again and again, trying to avoid the inevitable. The minister pressed her harder with his legs, but all of a sudden she succeeded to slip one of hers out of his control. Esmeralda frantically folded her leg, kicking him to the groin with her knee.

"Damned bitch," he roared in pain, as his hands automatically released her.

The gypsy did not wait for another opportunity. She hastily slipped from underneath him, turning and crawling as far as she could from the doubled up with pain minister. Frollo, lost in rage and hurt, tried to grab again hold of her, but he succeeded only to clutch a piece of her skirt. He pulled it, tearing it furiously, as Esmeralda backed up more and abruptly lifted herself from the floor. She stilled paralyzed, looking at him horrified.

It took a few seconds to the minister to fully realize what had just happened. From the unexpected pain he had stopped breathing, but now his chest was quickly inhaling and exhaling air, gasping heavily. He rapidly put his hands near him, while still having the torn piece of green dress strongly clutched between his fingers, and he pushed himself a little bit from the floor. For less than a second he looked at the silk cloth in his hand, as an involuntary flash of the gypsy's purple scarf, which she had unintentionally left to him during the feast of fools passed before his eyes. All of a sudden her enchanting dance, the fireplace, the unanswered prays, the temptation, the lust, the cross, the frustration, the need, the act of sin, the cursed bliss… the disloyalty (his and hers)- all of this came brighter and fresher than ever in his mind.

Almost immediately he lifted his face towards the gypsy; a face full with the purest wrath and evil that the frightened girl had ever seen. He continued breathing heavily, as his eyes enlarged and his lips transferred in something between loathing and nausea. He was still feeling more than well the pain between his legs, which she had caused him.

Esmeralda made automatically a step backwards; her eyes were running restlessly all over the room. Suddenly she fixed them at the door. That did not go unnoticed by the still on the floor minister. He sneered angrily.

"And where would you go," he barked with contempt. "I ASKED WHERE," he yelled with all the rage inside him, which mechanically startled the gypsy, who closed her eyes in frightened reflex.

She opened them quickly, looking straight at him with terror, however trying to look as bold as she could.

"Believe me, even if you succeed to run through that door, there is nothing out there for you," he continued with surprisingly managed voice, however full with malice and vice.

He was piercing her straight at her big, green eyes, as he gradually stood up. Indeed, if he still felt any pain from her kick, it was all remarkably well disguised, as now his face expressed only coldness, hatred, and disgust. Esmeralda did not dare to put her eyes down from him; they were locked in his, as she automatically lifted up her head, as he stood up taller than her.

"Even if I let you go, what would you do," he asked cynically. She did not answer. He sneered. "Well, you can either return to the slop of vermin and rotten in the filth of misery with them, or run to the cathedral and doom to a certain hell yourself and everybody who try to help you there. Is that what you desire," Frollo mocked coldly. She remained silent again, but her red eyes started to burn with hot tears. "I asked would do that," he hissed viciously, closing himself even more to her; however he was not touching her. "Would you do what I have just suggested, or instead you prefer to run to that idiot you whored with? Would you," he gritted jealously through his teeth. "The moron is now united with another, but I am more than certain that he would accept you in the house of his wife to fuck him _lovingly_."

Esmeralda snapped- his tone, his words, the way he was making her feel even more dirty and humiliated than she already was, all of that came too much for her. Before she could take any control of her actions, she lifted her hand and slapped him through his face.

The minister's head turned aside. The gypsy held her breath in horror, as she realized what she had just done. Frollo slowly turned again towards her, as his expression transferred in a sneer between spite, dominance, and pleasure.

"After all he is just a man," the judge continued coldly. "He would take you if you just open your legs and serve him as a cheap whore when he wants to _scratch his itch! _Is it even possible to get any lower? You are just a street harlot, who is ready to whore with every man who gives her an empty promise of affection."

The gypsy trembled. She could not bear any more words of his. Her hand automatically rose and quickly flew again to his face, however that time it was stopped. Frollo dexterously clutched her wrist, preventing her from further move, as he lowered and twisted it painfully. Esmeralda whimpered with pain and automatically lifted her other hand in attacking defense, but it was stopped as well. Now the minister was holding her both arms more than firmly, as he leaned very closely to her face.

"Don't you dare try any of these again," he hissed icily, making her all shiver. Frollo stared at her eyes for a second, which were still managing to look at him proudly. For a second his attention shifted to the desk near them, and then back at her. "If you are so willing to open your legs for an idiot like him, you will open them for me as well."

Esmeralda immediately tried to pull off him, but he took, dragged, and hit her upper body to the wooden desk as easy as if she was nothing more, but a rag-doll in his arms. She found herself again in the painfully familiar position of having her face and breasts pressed down; when her back was firmly hold by the minister. She struggled, trying to at least move her legs, which were still touching the ground. No use. That time he was holding her well.

"Please, stop it," she cried with tears, but he did not listen.

He hastily pushed the papers and the other stuff, which were on the desk, positioning her better underneath him. His hand slid along her spine, as he tossed her hair away from her back and started impatiently to untie the laces of her corset. He was pulling, loosening, and tearing wildly, as he finally drew the remains of the formerly gorgeous corset from underneath her and threw them aside. He placed his hand on her neck, clutching it and along with his entire body weight he pressed her even harder down to the now cleared desk. His free hand started to hastily unbutton his gown, almost tearing it. As he opened it he did not lose any time before he started to rip and destroy what was left from the skirt of the green dress. The flowing train, the gilded ornaments, the marvelous silk cloth, and the colorful layers; all of it was either gathered messily around her waist, or completely torn apart from the dress and tossed aside.

The gypsy cried out silently. From some time now she was feeling on the lower part of her back his hardened member. She knew that she could do nothing to prevent his violent entry in her that time, and yet she wanted to try everything possible. Frollo had numerous times conquered her during the past two months; he had had her no matter whether she was compliant with him or not; he had forcefully made himself to be the first man who she had ever had, but now it was different. Now, she was bruised, stripped and humiliated, but more than all, she was treated like filth, garbage; like a cheap whore. Now, he did not desire her; he was punishing her, and that hurt her even more than anything else he had put her through.

Esmeralda's struggles were relatively small and weak now. Her entire face was wet. Frollo lifted himself a little bit from her, but still holding her firmly with one hand and making sure that she would not try to escape him. He pulled his throbbing member from his pants, and as he dragged her a little bit upper he forcefully thrust himself inside of her. She was completely tight and dry, but that just made him to push in her harder and harder. The gypsy bit her hand in order to suppress the incredible cries of pain. She dragged and dig the nails of her other had along the wooden desk, twisting and contorting her entire arm in order to distract herself from the happening abuse.

The minister pushed her harder and harder. Drops of sweat were sliding all over his face; his eyes were wild and blind; his mouth was desperately gasping for air; and his fingers were sinking painfully into her flesh. He was thrusting and thrusting, again and again; rhythmically, mechanically, and ruthlessly slamming her hips over and over again to the hard edge of the desk. Now it was not about pleasure; it was not about lust or need; it was about pure wrath. Wrath, which was urging him to have her; to hurt her; and to feel how his wild rage was destroying her writhing body underneath him.

Hold into flesh, hip to hip, force into pain. All that seemed blended into one; one fatal mixture of love, jealousy, hurt, fury, hatred, despair, and the excruciating wounds of the heart and soul.

"Please," the miserable plead escaped weakly the gypsy's lips, as she could not bear it anymore. Frollo pressed her even harsher. "Stop it," she cried out louder with pain.

"Why," the minister barked viciously between his heavy gasps for air. "You refused to have me! You preferred whoring yourself with a man of empty promises," he pushed her harder, making her whimper with pain. "I have been kind enough to honor every word that I have given you, but I would be damned if I obey you now," he dropped his chest on her, as his head sunk into her hair. "You shall not have me as your slave, little slut, you shall have me as your master," the minister clenched through his teeth, thrusting harder into her.

He had disturbed his mechanical rhythms; now his motions were sluggish, harsher, and deeper into her.

"Say it," he panted heavily, as he made another move, reaching deep inside of her and pushing even further. She made a weak, but penetrating cry. "Say it," he said again, overwhelmed at the same time by the shortage of air and the gratifying shivers of final racking bliss.

He repeated the painful thrust into her, as she repeated her cry. For a second he paused, closing and slowly rubbing his face along her naked back, and then onto her hair and face, which was pressed miserably aside. She closed her eyes, which burned with the never stopping tears.

"You are my master," she whispered barely heard.

A bitter smirk slid his lips. He grabbed her shoulders, climbing a little bit upper on her. He slowly slid himself deeper and deeper into her, breathing sporadically and heavy, and lastly reaching the moments of final pleasure. The warm, gushing liquid spurted out and wet her dry inside. Frollo paused for a moment above her, trying to catch his breath. He had done it again; he had had her against her will, he had abused and treated her as he believed she was deserving, he had satisfied his carnal wishes in exchange of his soul, and yet that did not bring him any content. The jealousy, the pain, and the rage were still inside him. He felt so overwhelmed by those emotions that he truly believed that they would either completely devour, burn, or burst him.

He pulled himself out of her, making a couple of steps backwards and automatically lifted his pants back on his waist. The room was in complete silence. Frollo was consumed in the wild spin of harmful emotions and unbearable thoughts of what her actions had done to him, as he observed blindly how she immediately pushed herself from the desk, standing up and trying to cover her body with the poor remains of the formerly magnificent dress. After all that he had put her though she still had modesty, pride, and dignity; she was still hateful, stubborn, and disgusted by him. Her eyes restlessly ran all over the floor, as she gradually lifted them and looked at him in complete stillness.

Frollo's breathing was now relaxed and regular; only the numb feeling of cold caused by the sweat on his body, his opened gown, and the sense of exhaustion were all that was left from his physical, racking wrath with the gypsy. That and the foul taste in his mouth that Phoebus had had her, and from the two of them the minister was not the one that had received her by her own will.

He advanced to her stilled and wordless body. Esmeralda's breath stopped in fright. He was not putting down his eyes from her, and neither was she. He stopped before her; she was there, so near, so close to him that he could almost feel her skin rubbing onto his, her taste in his mouth, and her warmth surrounding him. And yet, she was further away than ever. Nothing physical was standing between the small distance between them; but her stubbornness, her refusal, her hatred to him; his beliefs, his disgust, and the horrible dark weight of jealousy in his chest that was ruthlessly eating him inside, all of that was persistently denying to the minister the so needed moment of blissful pleasure.

Frollo was restlessly watching her; he wished the wrath to end, he needed it to end. He very slowly leaned to her, still observing her carefully. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted her to want it, but the gypsy just trembled automatically closing her eyes in horror and repulsion, as she barely noticeable pulled her head away from him. The minister stopped in frustration; the rage inside him stirred up all over again the flames of destruction, now even more excruciating and unbearable than before. He furiously clutched her face, pulling it very close to him.

"Damned whore, what on earth would teach you that you better start beg for my affection before I have completely destroyed you," he barked lost in wrath.

Esmeralda abruptly shifted her head, and pushed him away with all her strength, escaping him and making a couple of steps backwards.

"You can imprison me in this house forever, you can make me say things which I will never believe in, you can shove your fucking dick in me whenever you feel like it, but you can never change what I feel about you," the gypsy yelled spitefully, looking straight at him. His stare was fired in fury, but he let her speak. "Every coerced word, every stolen kiss, and every forced touch; none of it is real! It is all extorted from me by force; it is pretended. The only time I was real I was not with you," Esmeralda announced boldly, as if completely forgotten the tortures that she had experienced just a moment ago exactly because of that fact. "You want to show me that he takes another woman just for the money; you want to punish me for the only satisfaction that I had ever had? Fine! But no matter what Phoebus at least cares for me, and yesterday he was nobody else's but mine," she stressed clearly every word.

She knew more than well that that would hurt the minister, but even though she believed that what she was saying was probably true, in her heart that was not a satisfactory excuse for the captain's actions. Nevertheless, the regret of what she did or her feelings had no place in that conversation, the only thing she felt mattered was to make Frollo experience if not the physical than at least the mental pain that she could cause him.

"You can force me to pretend that I like what you are doing to me, but you will never have from me what I shared with Phoebus- you would never have love."

Frollo snapped out, he would not tolerate any of that anymore. He rushed to her, furiously grabbing her by the hair and in a second she was dragged and thrown in the bed.

"I had enough of your babblings, bitch," he barked, immediately taking off his opened gown and tossing it aside. Before she could even put her arms before her in a defensive position, he jumped on her and with ease prevented her from further movement. "We'll see now what is real and what is not!"

Esmeralda was twisting, writhing, pushing, and desperately throwing herself; none of it was helping. That time the minister did not even bothered to try to undress the remains of her dress; he was violently sinking his fingers into the garment and her flesh, and beastly pulling everything that his grip could get hold of. It did not take long before the girl found herself completely naked beneath him, surrounded with all colors of ripped cloth around her. Frollo pressed his knee between her closed thighs, and as he added one of his hands below her waist he succeeded brutally to open her legs. He positioned himself between them, as he grabbed the back of her knees and pushed them up and towards her.

"Stop it, stop it," the gypsy cried out pointlessly, knowing that he would not do it.

Frollo was already hardened. He dropped one of her legs, directing his hand between their naked fleshes and down to his groin. He eagerly moved down his pants and slipped his hand in them in order to pull out of them his throbbing member. He pulled it, as his hand immediately crept up her body to her breasts.

"You will have me, and you will also twist and beg me for more," he hissed with malice.

The gypsy abruptly pull her hand from him, which did not turn out to be a hard thing, as his main occupation of force was now on her legs. She sank her nails into the bare flesh of his chest, as she wildly and rapidly ran it all the way down to his stomach, leaving red traces of scratches. He gnashed his teeth in order to suppress his yell of pain.

"Bitch," he burst, as he dropped her other leg and slapped her heavily through her face.

He did not wait even another second to let both of their pains calm down. He thrust into her for a second time that night, more frantic, mad, and enraged than ever. He moved in her harshly, uncaringly, irregularly, and severely. It was as if there was nothing human left in him; as if he was an animal; a wild animal, which had just caught his prey and it was now ripping it apart. There was nothing enjoyable or pleasurable in neither of them; it was soulless, breathless, and merciless act of wrath. The only lust left in the minister was nothing but the lust of vengeance.

"Do you recall all the things you promised me to do for me if I let you walk yesterday," Frollo sneered spitefully. She did not reply; she was still trying to push him off her, but it was nothing more than weak and desperate attempts. "Did you forget them or you just did them with him, little slut," he pushed her incredibly hard, making her cry out with pain.

Nevertheless, she was determined to keep her mouth shut that time in order to escape more of his wrath. Frollo exhaled and inhaled heavily, as he continued between his pushes:

"You promised me that you would make me believe that you like it," he clenched repulsively through his teeth. "I bet you did not have to pretend with him, did you," he yelled lost in rage, making another violent move inside of her. "And did you wrap your legs around him when you fucked him? That was what you promised me to do for me," the minister hissed with malice. Frollo paused for a brief second, giving her a small moment of rest. "Well, let's not make you a complete liar, shall we," he drawled with cold and disgust in his voice.

Frollo roughly clutched his cold fingers into her legs, as he harshly pulled them and ruthlessly slammed her thighs onto his hips. He rubbed her and shoved his hardened manhood deeper and deeper into her objecting and tightened vaginal walls.

"Now, that's my whore," he mocked in anger and repulsion, continuing to push and push in her. "What else did you promise," he asked cynically, knowing that he would not receive an answer again. "Well, I recall you assuring me that you would curve you body in ecstasy and moan excitedly for me whenever I want you to. Let's see what we can do about this, shall we?"

The minister squeezed her hips with all the vindictive force that he behold in him, as she could not help it but shrink her body in pain and shout at the top of her lungs from the excruciating pain.

"Excellent," he sneered viciously between his heavy breaths and hard motions inside of her. "We have the wrapped legs, the curves, and the moans all together," Frollo continued with disgust. "Now, was that so hard," he asked, again knowing that there would be no answer. He deepened abruptly into her, as she whimpered again, and then he sluggishly withdrew a little bit, gasping for air. "However, I believe we are forgetting something," he drawled mockingly, as his eyes slid leeringly down her neck, breasts, and stomach. "But of course," he mumbled still staring at her soft skin. Suddenly his cold, reproachful, and malicious look shifted back to her wet, green eyes, piercing them icily. "We forgot the part where _you beg me for more_."

Esmeralda shuddered, as her heart sank within her and cold shivers crawled over her skin, making her feel incredibly sickened and even more awkward. For a second she felt as if her body was not belonging to her; as if it was just an uncomfortable dress that would never fit her right. That time she could not stay quite; he wanted an answer and she could only imagine what would happen if he does not receive the right one.

"Please," the gypsy misfortunately, barely, and tremblingly started, as two hot tears rolled over her cheeks. Her green eyes were looking straight at him, but because of the welling up tears, all that she could see was blurred and undistinguished. "Please, don't stop," she produced finally through tears.

She inhaled air and ceased in suffocation, as her eyes closed and her whole body became more loosened and numb. Frollo observed every move of hers; she was finally compliant, but did it matter at all? None of it was real, and no matter of the context of her words her voice, her expression, and her body was all begging him to stop. He felt sickened; he would never have what he really wanted from her, and yet it hurt him more that someone else did.

"You saw him with your own eyes how he swears in love to another," Frollo suddenly hissed with coldness in his voice, still motionless above her. Esmeralda opened her eyes and stared at him blankly. "He saw you, too, he had the chance to say or do something, but he did not. What other proof do you need to realize that he does not love you, that what you have with him has never been love," Frollo stopped himself.

Suddenly he had realized where he was going with all that; however love was not something that he felt comfortable to talk about with the gypsy. He stilled for a moment; motionless, wordless, staring right at her with burning eyes as if spilling and unleashing all those forbidden emotions and words, that neither his consciousness nor his mouth was ready to admit to himself. He was sure that the captain did not love her, but what about him?

Frollo broke up the stillness in the room, as he thrust himself slowly and deep in her, renewing his rhythmic motions. Now she was far less difficult to enter in, but her loosened and spiritlessly languid body suggested her desperate surrendering more than anything else. He dropped his body onto hers and put his closed eyes into her soft hair. He pushed again and again; sliding his skin onto hers, rubbing it, warming it by the created friction; sluggishly, irregularly, sporadically, and wet. Move after move, deep, deep inside her, desperately trying to reach with the physical act a sensual moment that was not there, and then disappointedly withdrawing just to return back deeper and more eager than before for the purely carnal pleasure. The minister moaned in bitter ecstasy for one last time, releasing the hot, gushing liquid from his throbbing member into her. He relaxed for a second on her, completely drained out, but then lifted himself above her, as his restless eyes pierced into her wet, dead ones.

"I left you free for one night, and the first thing you did was to jump into his bed," Frollo stated bitterly. "Why?"

The girl looked at him miserably.

"I am sorry," she cried out very faintly.

Esmeralda did not know why she said that. She did not know whether it was because she had looked at his bitter eyes, understanding perhaps only for a partial of the second the incredible jealousy and pain that she had caused him, the same one that she had experienced while seeing Phoebus with Fleur-de-Lys; or perhaps exactly the reminding of that disappointment had finally made her to confess out loudly the regret of what she had did; maybe the words were not at all directed to the minister, but to herself; maybe she just needed to say those words without any deeper meaning; or maybe it was some painful mixture from all of that. Nevertheless, she had said it, but it awakened the frustrated wrath in the minister all over again.

Frollo's expression transferred into disgust, as he grabbed her by the shoulders and rolled himself off her, laying on his back on the bed. He dragged her along with him, making her turn over and place her body on top of him.

"Let's safe your mouth for something more useful than your empty apologies, shall we," he drawled hatefully, as he squeezed harsher her shoulders and pushed her down to his groin.

He felt her warm tears on his skin. That was more surely not the way to make her change her feelings about him, but he was stubbornly persuading himself that he did not care, that he did not need it. The jealousy, the frustration, the wrath was all burning him inside. How could he admit that he was sorry too for everything that he did to her while feeling so much rage boiling in him? It was too painful, too unbearable. Now he truly believed that the only think that alleviated a little bit the fire of wrath was the lust, and he was determined to get as much from it as he could.

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A/N: I know it was bad for Esme, but I promise the things between those two will get better... I would love reviews!


	16. Love

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and I hope you'll like that chapter too;)

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Love:

"_**DO YOU LOVE**__ me," she asked after a moment of peaceful silence._

"_Of course I do," he replied softly with a smile of satisfaction._

"_I have never felt happier before," the gypsy said pleased... "It was wonderful; you were wonderful."_

"_Am I," Phoebus asked with teasing, delighted smile. _

Esmeralda opened her eyes, wishing to interrupt the memory of the night when she had spent with the captain and the affectionate words they had exchanged. It took her a few seconds to shake off from the dream and to recollect her thoughts. She stared blindly through the window at the warm, bright sunrays, which were piercing through the grey clouds. The sun was almost risen up, but judging by the dark sky and the cold air it was going to be a gloomy and murky day. Nevertheless, it seemed to the girl that the shining light, which was occasionally revealed underneath the layers of grey shades, was brighter and more yellow than ever before, as if not corresponding at all to its dull surrounding. On the background of all that despair it was such a beautiful, golden sun…

The gypsy turned her head aside, closing her eyes and sighing heavily with pain. No matter of how hard she tried she could not chase away the thought of the captain; of her love and sun. It had been past three days since she had seen him taking another for his wife; since Frollo had learned about the gypsy's night with Phoebus and had spilled his entire wrath on her. Sometimes it was all feeling like some kind of a bad dream, a nightmare; like something, which had happened to another person; or even like a horrible story that she had only listened to. But it hurt too much to be fictional… Phoebus had left her with a crushed and broken heart and the minister had made sure her heart not to be the only smashed and harmed thing in her body.

Esmeralda shifted in the bed, as she could not bear to think anymore about all the tormenting love in her life. She lifted herself, sitting on the bed. Her entire body was immediately hit with the excruciating pain of her wounds and bruises, which even after three days were still fresh and not ceased to hurt. She bitted her lip, as a whimpering sigh escaped her mouth. The gypsy tried to sit more comfortable, but after another hurtful move she quickly gave up. She stared numbly at the empty room, feeling only the pulsating pain all over her body and involuntary running over and over again in her mind the memories with the captain.

Perhaps he did love her; a love on his own way, but that did not seem to be enough for the girl… If he did love her then why he had left her; why he had married another just to improve his social status? No, love was not supposed to be like that; it was not supposed to be forgotten and let so easy to go away. Phoebus did not love her… at least he did not love her the way she loved him.

A hot tear rolled over the cheek of the girl, as she closed her eyes, forcing to manage the emerging of the others. Esmeralda got down from the bed, immediately feeling as her whole body was gripped by the dull pain of her contusions. Nevertheless, she had to move around; to have the soreness; to feel it- better that than the devastating thought that her love did not love her. The gypsy was circling and circling the empty room; the pain was pulsating in her muscles, and yet she believed that that was thousand times better than the deafening thoughts in her mind that the captain had just used her for one night. Maybe she deserved it; maybe she deserved all the wounds and black bruises, which the minister had done to her. Maybe after all she had to be punished… to be left with a mark of never trusting her soul to another man.

Esmeralda had gotten a little bit more used to with the pain in her muscles, as she stopped and stared blindly through the window. It was the same dark, gloomy, and grey picture that she had seen just moments ago with the only exception that now the yellow sun was nowhere to be seen. Her green, miserable eyes froze; for a second she felt how her soul was separating from her paralyzed and aching body, leaving it and freely flying through the window, rearing above the houses, feeling the cool air running through her, and sinking entirely into the grey-white clouds, experiencing nothing but the cold darkness around her.

A metal key rang into the locker, as the gypsy immediately startled, snapping out and turning to the direction of the sound. It did not take long before the door opened and the minister entered the room. He instantly fixed his eyes on her, making her tremble and automatically to take a step backwards. For a long moment he wordlessly stared at her, sliding his eyes thoroughly all over her raven hair, beautiful face, soft neck, and white night dress, which was suggesting so much more underneath it. How could he even resist it? Frollo slowly closed the door, not separating his eyes from her, and advanced a few steps towards her, which instantly made her produce another small step in the opposite direction.

Since the day of Phoebus' wedding and the confrontation she had suffered with the minister she had not seen him at all the past three days. Three days, which she had spent constantly locked in the guestroom next to his bedroom; three days in complete unknowing for the rest of the world beyond the scope of the view from her window, in fear, pain, and anguish. The very short and wordless visits of the maids when bringing her food were the only things that reminded her that she was still existing in that world.

Frollo stopped inches before her. She did not dare to move anymore; she felt completely stiffened with horror; paralyzed, frozen, and too afraid to object him at all. Her eyes were not separating from a point on the floor near her feet; her heartbeat was racing faster and faster, as she suddenly felt a heavy weight filling up her chest and preventing her to be able to take another breath. His only presence made her feel weak in the knees; his close to her and intimidating her body made her unease; and his persisting stare, even though she could not see it but only to sense it, was making shivers to run all over her. She could hardly think anymore for the pain of her traumas; the traumas that he had caused her. Esmeralda could not take it any longer; she slowly and very hesitantly lifted her big, frightened, miserable eyes towards him.

The minister gazed somewhat absent-mindedly at her face. He was just looking at her; he was not thinking or doing anything, he did not know what to do. He was more than certain that after he had learned for her inequities with the captain the only proper thing to do was to get rid of her, to throw her into some dungeon, and even to burn her alive along with the other vermin that she was too selfish to safe. He should have done that with her, the gypsies that she tries to protect, and the captain too. But he did not with neither of them. As far as it was concerning the gypsies he was treating them not differently than usual. The minister had let Phoebus remain captain, he had acted before him as if he did not know about it, as if he did not care of anything else aside his work. And the captain did well on his part to never dare to speak up about the gypsy in the minister's presence, even though he was probably concerned about her. But that seemed easily forgotten; in fact, in those three days that had been past after the confrontation of all of them at the wedding both the soldier and Frollo seemed to forget surprisingly well of the existence of each another as far as it goes beyond the cold exchange of a few words where the minister was giving an order and Phoebus was incoherently submitting to it.

But with the gypsy it was not the same. Frollo could not so easily ignore her; he could neither kill her nor forget her. After the rage had ceased in him he had dragged her and locked her in the next room- far enough to restrain him to spill his wrath on her, which was always in him and he seemed to constantly fight to suppress it; but at the same time close enough not to make him mad just because she was not around. As if there was some kind of spell in his chest, in his throat, and in his mind , which was not allowing him to live without her; a beast raging in him to tear her apart for everything that she was doing to him, and still desiring nothing more but to embrace her tenderly into his arms.

He did not know what he was going to do with her, but he had hoped that he would find the strength never to enter the room he had put her in. Alas, that battle was lost before it had started! It had not passed a day without thinking of her, wanting her, needing her… He had caused her so much pain and suffering; he was despising her; she was filthy, based, and dirty whore; he was not supposed to see her ever again; she was disgusting him; and yet in that grey and murky morning he could not be anywhere else but here.

Frollo suddenly felt a cold shiver running through his spine as he snapped out of his daze. He was not putting down his eyes from her, but just now he seemed to realize the big, dark, and purple bruise around the one side of her mouth. He had done that; he was the reason of covering her entire body with injuries and wounds; but he knew more than well that her suffering was going even beyond the physical wounds. She had deserved it, but why then he was the one feeling guilt… she had deserved it, he was just the punishing tool in the hands of God; but why then he was regretting it more than all of his sins taken together?

The minister slowly reached with his hand to her face. Esmeralda immediately cringed, pulling her head backwards in fear. Her heart sank within her; she did not know what to expect from him anymore. She did not know why he had come to her; what he was planning to do with her; and whether to expect a hit or a kiss; honestly she did not know which one she would rather have.

Frollo looked at her somewhat irritated, but then placed slowly his fingers on her face, softly running them along her cheek and tracing regretfully the purple swellings around her lips. She closed her eyes in a loathing expression, which did not go unnoticed by the minister. He gritted his teeth in frustration; why she had to be always that stubborn… His hand gradually slid along her cheek and through her hair, as he spread his fingers on the back of her head, becoming more impatient and less caring. He breathed heavily; all that he wanted was her and all that he did was to make her hate him more.

The minister roughly pulled her head to his, as he pressed his burning lips on hers and kissed her fervently and passionately. As always he did not receive a response. He pulled back from her as he gasped heavily in order to catch up his breath. Frollo stared at her disgusted. Her eyes were looking somewhere down to the floor. His hand on her head tightened more as he shifted roughly her head up, forcing her to look at him.

"I believe it is time to start paying me back for all the merciful things I have done for you and your vermin friends," he clenched spitefully through his teeth. She did nothing. "Kiss me," Frollo commanded coldly, staring at her provokingly and not moving.

Esmeralda shivered. The gypsy felt weak at her knees, as a cold wave run through her and she found herself entirely trembling. She felt nauseous; she knew that she had to obey him, but what would follow? Had he come to spill his wrath again on her or had he come to collect back the promise that she had made him the night she had escaped; the promise of the pretended one-time love? The girl did not know which one was it, but it did not matter… She hated him; somehow her broken heart blamed him for the captain's empty promises of love; he was the one that had pulled her away from her happiness, from her people, friends, and former lover. That was what her heart felt; that was what her mind remembered, and that was what every aching muscle in her body was telling her. She had given him a promise to make him believe that she wanted him for one time, but now when that time had come she was just despising him more than ever.

"I am waiting," the minister cynically drawled with impatience, still piercing closely his eyes in hers.

Esmeralda knitted her brows with hatred and disgust; that man had caused her so much suffering, pain, and torture. How could he demand from her to do something for him at all? The revulsion, the contempt, the lack of choice, and the lust for revenge overwhelmed the gypsy. She wanted to see him dead; to kill him with her bare hands, but could she? No. He was much stronger than her and every effort to physically oppose him would be doomed before it had started. The bruises all over her body painfully reminded her of that. She gritted her teeth in frustration, helplessness, and hatred.

The gypsy suddenly pushed her entire body into him, pressing hard her lips onto his. Frollo, unprepared by the unexpected direction of strength, made a couple of steps backwards before he could manage to balance his standing position. However, it did not take long at all before he had grabbed her by the shoulders and had fervently included into the rough kiss. Esmeralda shivered as she felt his tongue tangling with hers; what she was doing was not at all intended to be a kiss. She was stubbornly pushing and pushing her mouth to his; her pretending of liking his actions could hardly be called that at all.

Sporadically twisting tongue, which was escaping his; stiffened mouth, curved into aversion lips, and teeth, which were persistently pressing harder and harder into him. Nevertheless, the minister continued deeper and deeper into her, making his way through her rigid, loathing motions. That was most certainly not the respond that he wanted, but now it was all that he could have. The kiss became longer and longer, uninterrupted, breathless, lost and mingled between strong controversial emotions. It was at the same time passionate, numb, yearning, loathing, desiring, repulsive, lustful, intolerable, hopelessly lost in the illusion and yet stubbornly refusing to create it. The minister became more and more fervent. Tongue with tongue; shoving, wanting, consuming; sucking the moist on her skin, lips, between her teeth, inside…

A sudden piercing pain made Frollo abruptly push her off him, sending her a few steps away. The breathless minister gasped heavily looking angry and shocked at the bold girl before him. He hastily wiped out with two of his fingers the down lip of his opened mouth, as he stared dumbly at the blood on them. He breathed hard a few more times, as suddenly he pierced his eyes with meeting eyebrows at her. She trembled, but she remained looking at him daringly. She did not know why she bit him; she knew that it would only infuriate him, that he would probably beat her up again for that, but she just wished to cause him pain even a small one.

Frollo advanced to her, looking her at the same time infuriated and incomprehensively. She wanted to step back, but her legs refused to move. His eyes were locked in hers. He stopped inches before her still trying to catch up his breath. He could have punished her for that; he could have slapped her, kicked her, and forced himself inside of her objecting and writhing body. He could have done all that… but all that was in his mind was the burning ecstatic feeling, which he had felt when she had so suddenly pressed herself to him. Yes, it was intended to be a stubborn, loathing, and hateful action, but he did not seem to care about that. In fact he believed he liked it even more than the former submissive, and yet lifeless kisses…

The minister abruptly grabbed the back of her head, pulling her closer to him and thirstily shoving roughly his tongue into her objecting mouth. Indeed, Esmeralda did not expect that; she expected a curse, a threat, or a hit, but not that… She did not understand it- was there anything at all that she could do to make him desire her any less? The iron taste of the minister's blood spread in her mouth, as he fervently pressed his lips with hers, sucking the moist out of them before pulling his head back from her.

"Mark my word, gypsy," he sneered spitefully, "from now on every time you do something different from what I want five people of yours would be burnt. And I promise you, I would make sure that you would be able to see their final suffering throughout the window of this room." Frollo paused, taking a few moments staring at her resenting eyes. "Are we clear," he drawled provokingly.

"Yes," the girl said after a pause with a hateful and disgusted note in her voice.

Frollo smirked content. His eyes libidinously slid down her body.

"And what do you think I want now," he asked cynically, as he slowly looked back at her face.

Esmeralda did not say anything. Her eyes were narrowed, and she was piercing at him with spite, wishing to be able to kill him just with a stare. He smirked again, as he leaned back to her and pressed slowly his lips to hers. He kissed her very lightly, but then stopped, waiting provokingly for her response.

The gypsy painfully realized that she had no choice, but to give him what he wanted. His moistened lips were still on hers, as she closed her eyes and scarcely opened her mouth, pressing it to his and then closing it again. That appeared enough to satisfy the minister, who kissed her deeper, fervently putting his tongue inside of her mouth and moving it ardently along her weak responses back. He took her face in his hands, spreading passionately and adoringly his fingers all over her dark, soft skin. He kissed her again and again- hard; tenderly; fervently; and lovingly. He moved his hands down her neck, locks of hair, shoulders, arms, elbows, wrists…

"Put your hands on me," he ordered, pulling his tongue from her mouth for a second, and heavily gasping for air, and then continuing kissing her.

She shuddered with abhorrence, as immediately the first thing on her mind was to object him. But she did not… Esmeralda slowly lifted her arms, as she placed her hands barely on his shoulders. On his part, Frollo's arms eagerly surrounded her, pulling her closer to his body, and sliding his hands all over her back. His fingers delightfully gripped the thin, white fabric of her night gown between them, sensing the warmth of her skin beneath it. He rubbed fervently her back, kissing her again and again, and receiving no more than just a few scarce and unwilling responses.

The minister's hands traveled down her spine, keenly gathering more and more of the light fabric of her night-dress. He reached the down part of her waist as he pulled her pelvis closer to his. He felt growing hard between his legs. Frollo kissed her again and again, pressing harder and harder to her. His moistened lips separated from hers, as he slowly traced with them her chin, neck, shoulders, and further down, leaving her skin wet behind it. His motions were becoming more fervent, passionate, and keen. His hands grasped her buttocks, lifting her entire body upper to him, and he continued to pull the thin fabric around her. His head was now sunken in her bosom as he rubbed his nose, cheeks, and lips onto her warm, dark skin.

The pleasurable uneasiness between his legs grew more and more. It had been only three days since the last time he was inside of her, but it felt so much more. His entire body was begging him to have her; he wanted, desired, needed, and craved for every part of her. One of his hands slid down her hip, as the shortened skirt finished and he reached her bare flesh. He firmly grabbed and lifted her leg, sensing gratifyingly how her uncovered thigh slid closely up to his hip. His throbbing member pressed hard between her legs, and now only the layers of clothes was preventing them of uniting into one.

Frollo lifted his head from her chest, gasping for air as he paused and looked at her resentful expression. So far she had complied with his orders and had done what he had told her. Her hands were still on his shoulders, she was responding to his kisses (even though scarcely), and he had made her body to cling to his without any resistance. However, that did not seem enough at all. She was somehow still succeeding to remind him of how much she despised and hated him. He sighed heavily in frustration.

In a second, Frollo had succeeded to carry her and drop her on the bed, as if she was nothing more than a rag-doll. He leaned over her, placing himself above her and staring intensely at her green eyes. The minister fervently pressed his lips to hers and shoved thirstily his tongue into her mouth. His kiss was long, deep, devoted, and passionate, as for a response he received nothing more than a slight opening of her mouth and scarce moving of her tongue. He pulled from her, lowering down to her body, as his eyes shifted to her bosom. His hands fervently rubbed her breasts, as he grabbed the collar of her night gown and impatiently started to unbutton it. The buttons finished a little bellow her breasts, as Frollo hastily removed the opened pieces aside, completely revealing for his delight her ample chest.

The minister's eyes shifted from her bosom to her face and her fixed-at-the-ceiling stare. After a pause he looked again at her chest and moved slowly his hand along her ribs and up to one of her bare breasts, as he pressed his palm and spread fingers tightly to it. Frollo breathed deeply with excitement, as he traced with tongue his dried up mouth. He looked again at her unchanged position, as he lingeringly rubbed her breast.

"Beg me to have you," he hissed with both coldness and a great desire.

Esmeralda closed her eyes, as she gulped down her tears.

"Please, have me," she repeated mechanically.

The minister impatiently clutched her chin with his free hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Not like this," he drawled with frustration, but surprisingly calm. "Tell it like you mean it."

"I beg you, shove your fucking dick in me," the gypsy talked back impudently and stubbornly.

Frollo smirked amused. It was not what he wished to hear, but he did not mind at all her dirty talking. He abruptly and roughly pulled her head up to his, as he kissed her deeply and violently. He dropped her head down on the bed, as he fervently followed her, now directing and placing lustful kisses on her chin and neck.

"Tell me you need me," he panted heavily between the sucking motions all over her neck and the deep gasps for air.

"I need you," she said automatically.

Frollo moaned pleased, as his hand traveled across her body, but the gypsy was not paying attention of anything that was happening around her anymore… His words, his requirement- "Tell me you need me," and her answer had involuntary reminded her of the morning with the captain…

"_Tell me you love me_," she recalled as her own voice had inquired those words from Phoebus.

"Say that you want me," the gypsy heard Frollo ordering again, as now his moistened lips were pressed on her shoulder.

"_I love you,"_ the automatic respond of the captain rang into Esmeralda's ears.

"I want you," the gypsy heard herself replying very faintly to the minister's command.

Frollo smirked with content.

"Say that you never want to be away from me," he commanded gasping after a few more kisses, as now his tongue was going between her breasts.

Esmeralda's heart sank within her, as she bitterly remembered when she had requested a similar thing from her former lover:

"_Tell me that we will be together forever." _

She breathed heavily, as tears filled up her green eyes. She remained wordless. That did not like to the minister, who interrupted his lustful kisses over her breasts, however his eyes remained fixed on them, as he hissed more spitefully:

"Say you never want to leave me!"

"_I don't want to lie to you,"_ the bitter respond of the captain rang in the gypsy's ears.

A hot tear rolled over her cheek. She numbly felt as the minister renewed his kisses over her. She breathed heavily in sorrow; it seemed as if she had just now realized what the words of Phoebus meant- he may have believed he loved her, but he did not. A love was not supposed to be broken up so easily, to be given up, and to be promised when knowing that it could not last forever. Phoebus did not love her; he let their bond to be easily broken, he gave up from Esmeralda to be willingly married to another, he wanted to leave her…

"Do you love me," the gypsy heard herself asking out loudly.

Frollo suddenly ceased, pausing over her.

After a few seconds, which felt like a lifetime for both of them, he slowly lifted his head and pierced his stunned eyes into hers. He stared at her with the vacant stare of an idiot, as the girl herself had not much more different expression.

The seconds were elapsing one after another, as the stilled moment in the room was getting longer and longer. Thousands of ideas got mixed up at once in the minister's mind, as everything that he tried to say got stuck up in his throat. What was that- a new trick of hers; a new way to distract him; to get from him what she wanted; to escape him? What games was she playing now? Did she mean it? What was he supposed to say; what did she want him to say? All that was restlessly repeating over and over again in his head; he wanted to spill it out, but he did not. Instead, he barely succeeded to produce with the coolest voice he achieved to make out:

"What have you just said?"

Esmeralda swallowed hesitantly; what had she really said? All that painful reminding of her lost love; of the idea that she had realized that Frollo was wanting her just the way she was wanting the captain; and the momentary comparison of the fact that now the minister was probably unintentionally telling her that he was wanting her forever in contrast of Phoebus' refusal to _lie _to her- all that had overwhelmed her, making the question slip out of her lips. Considering all that over again, the gypsy realized that the question seemed inevitable in her mind, but did she really want to say it out loudly again?

"Do you love me," Esmeralda repeated more consciously, as she pierced her big, green eyes straight at his.

Frollo stared at her speechless. She had really asked that and she did not seem to let it go… She wanted an answer, but which one? The minister frowned in confusion; the least he had expected from her was to ask that…

He opened his mouth to say something, but he ceased wordless. His eyes shifted restlessly from her face to her uncovered chest, and then back to her face. He closed his mouth, staring at her intensely. She was lying underneath him almost naked to the middle, but why then he felt as the stripped one?

Suddenly, Frollo lifted and pulled himself off her, stepping on the floor. He stood up for a second paralyzed there, as he was still not letting her out of his sight. Then, he sighed heavily, succeeding to remove his stare from her and to look blindly at the opposite direction. It did not pass long before he shifted again his easy, now directing them down to himself, as he rigidly fixed up his clothes. He barely glared at her once more, as he wordlessly headed to the door, opened it, left, and slammed it back, leaving the half-naked girl locked in the room again.

**FROLLO** marched wordlessly out of his house without having his breakfast or ordering anything to the servants, which was quite unusual for him. He was consumed in thoughts; he wished not to speak or to be disturbed by anyone. In his ears her unexpected question was repeating over and over again; her intonation of it, the words, her eyes... He seemed to closely study and examine even the smallest part of those four syllables- _Do you love me?_ Did he? He seemed he had never truly thought about it…

Indeed, when he had taken her to Amparo to interrupt her pregnancy the skinny woman had insisted that instead of just killing her he had gone through all that trouble simply because he loved her. But he had not agreed with her; in fact he had never before thought twice about that conversation…

_"__I am just not ready for not having her__," he recalled in his mind the dry excuse that he had given to the healer. _

_"__But is that not love," Amparo grunted teasingly…_

"Minister Frollo," a loud voice interrupted the judge's daze, as he saw an approaching soldier- so much for the wish not to be disturbed… "Yesterday we followed one of the outcasts sneaking back in the city; he led us straight to a house full of them," the soldier said in one breath.

"Good," Frollo returned absent-mindedly.

"We locked all of them in the house," the man continued a little bit confused by the lack of reaction of his superior. "There were at least thirty, but it could be more. We heard one of them to be called their king- his name was Lopen, Clopal, or something like this… We were about to burn the entire house with them for an example of the others, but captain Phoebus ordered us not to. He said that you have to know about it first; the captain said something about that you might prefer just to banish them again or lock them in the dungeons… I told him that they were already full with the arrested gypsy beggars, whom we have collected from the streets, but he insisted to inform you first."

"Very well," the minister mumbled distracted, as the soldier stopped speaking and waited for his orders.

"Which one, sir," the man asked confused.

"Yes, you are right," Frollo drawled, paying more attention, as he looked at the soldier. "The dungeons are full, and we have already understood that no matter of how much we try to push them out of the city, those vermin always find a way back."

"So the only way is to set them on fire then," the soldier asked after the minister did not say anything for a while.

Frollo seemed completely consumed in something. He was looking blindly before him, as suddenly he shifted his head up and stared pensively to one of the house's windows, which was from the room, where the gypsy was.

"Indeed, the flames are the most certain way…" the minister mumbled, barely heard by the soldier.

"Sir, do you confirm the execution of the gypsies," the man asked, still not understanding the orders of his superior.

_The execution of the gypsies_… of so many of them; that would most certainly be the answer of many of his problems. But how would Esmeralda react to the news of the death of her people… Frollo sighed in frustration- why he cared at all; why he was constantly feeling the need to please her; why he could not stop to think about her even for a second; why he was continuing to stare at the window to her? Was that what love felt like?

"No," the minister said authoritatively, as he turned to the soldier, "there would be not any executions today."

"I understand," the man automatically replied, confused more than ever. "What are your orders for them, sir?"

"Lead me to the house where you have trapped them," Frollo said with his usual low voice, as he went to his black horse and mounted it. "I shall explain there."

_**ESMERALDA**_ spent the entire day locked in the room. It was not really something new; in fact in the recent couple of months she had spent more of her days in that manner. Nothing had changed, except everything…

Why she had to ask him that? Did she really care? Would it change anything at all? No… Of course not. The gypsy hated him; he had caused her so much humiliation, suffering, and pain that it was beyond any describable words. What difference would it make if he had said that he loved her? None. But still, why she could not chase away the constant wondering of his wordless respond? Why Frollo had not said anything? Did it mean that he did not care… did he love her or not. Why he had left; in one second he had been all over her, ready to claim her one more time, and in the next he had just left. The gypsy knew more than well that neither her impudence nor her pleading had ever had such a drastic effect on him, but why then four words did?

The entire day of the girl past consumed in such thoughts. Surely, she seemed to have completely forgotten the morning memories of Phoebus (not that she had stopped thinking of him, but he just did not appear to be of such an emergent importance as what had happened between her and the minister). The seconds were turning into minutes, and the minutes into hours… Everything seemed to go very slowly and yet too fast.

The night had come unexpected. Esmeralda wondered where the judge had gone; but what really worried her was that she was not sure if she hoped as usual never to see him again or the opposite...

Suddenly she heard steps from outside emerging, and her heart sank within her. She turned to the door paralyzed, unknowing what to expect. She knew it was him, but now what?

Frollo was not entering. He numbly stared at the door, which was leading to the gypsy. Throughout the whole day he was considering what he would say to her, but now when he was in fact so close of saying it everything seemed to vanish from his mind. He circled nervously the corridor, wandering all over it before he returned back to the same place in front of her room. He sighed heavily as he leaned with his hands on the door and dropped his head lifelessly to the floor.

He had just decided that it was needless to mention his decision for the gypsies to her…

Suddenly and very noisily the door opened, startling the gypsy (even though she was waiting for that moment for some time now). The minister stood up at the entrance. He was not wearing his hat, his face was even paler than before, his grey hairs were failing in disorder and along with his clothes were soggy wet. Outside it had been pouring with rain for a couple of hours now, but seeing the judge like that seemed to have made Esmeralda realized it for a first time that evening.

For a brief second Frollo stared at her with obsessive and fiery eyes. She was not wearing anymore the night dress from the morning; she was with the red gown and black surcoat- the first dress, which the minister had bought for her and the only one left whole by now. Frollo rushed wildly to her, making her step a few steps back in horror and panic. Too late, he grabbed her firmly by the shoulders; there was no way to escape him now. The gypsy stopped breathing; all of a sudden she had become completely speechless before him. Only her enlarged eyes, which were intensely watching at him, seemed to be the only lively thing in her paralyzed body.

The minister breathed heavily, not putting his eyes down from her. What did she think; what did she expected; what did she want? Was he supposed to ask her; was he supposed to care, or may be having her naked body beneath him would be enough to put to an end all those controversial ideas in his head?

Esmeralda soundlessly cried out through her teeth; his grip had become unbearably tight. Frollo automatically looked at his hands, as he loosened his hold from her arms.

He looked at her again; hungrily, desirably, yearningly, and yet confused. His eyes were restlessly running all over her. Suddenly he pulled her closer to him, as he locked his stare with hers. He breathed heavily, as he leaned to kiss her, but stopped very close to her lips. He looked at her- she looked more horrified than ever. He exhaled angrily, as he pulled back in frustration, but then again made a prevented way to her mouth, this time stopping somewhere on the middle between them. He seemed to struggle in confusion what to do. He closed his eyes, as he gritted his teeth.

All of a sudden, he turned towards the door, dropping one of his hands off her, but holding firmly her arm with the other. He hastily pulled her to the exit, dragging her so harshly that she could barely manage not to fall down on her knees and in the same time to keep up with him.

Frollo left the guestroom in some kind of a frantic hurry. He swiftly entered his own bedroom, as he was still not letting hold of the gypsy. The minister rushed madly to the fireplace, as he harshly pulled her arm, making her trail trippingly the rest of her body in front of him, as he pointed franticly the metal, dark cross above the burning fire.

"Look at it," he barked. He shook her roughly, "Look!"

Esmeralda slowly lifted her head, wishing him to stop hurting her.

"From the moment I saw you I prayed…," Frollo said in low voice mingled in something between disgust and obsession.

His eyes were compulsively fixed on the frightened gypsy, who did not dare to look aside from the pointed cross. It was already dark outside, but the few lighted candles in the room were spilling their lively glow on the walls and ceiling, making a huge, dark shadow of the cross near it. The minister did not look at the metal object even for once; he seemed completely consumed in the face of the girl. She was entirely brightened by the flames of the fireplace just before her, as if fiery fiends were playing all over her.

"I prayed," the judge continued after a pause. "I prayed to the Holy Virgin to make you feel the fires of Hell; to make you feel the burning torment that you have cast on me," Frollo loosed his grip, but the gypsy remained stilled. "I was staring at the cross in day and night; persisting, begging and praying to the Lord to return you back to the fiery pit and to safe me from your spell." The minister made a long pause, as he sighed heavily and then continued coldly: "But alas, the demon had crawled even into my prayers, because I prayed as well for another thing. I begged The Virgin herself to let you be mine… mine alone."

Frollo slowly reached to her face as he lightly took her chin and made her face him. He stared at her big, green and smoldering eyes, which felt as if they were seeing and scorching right through his soul.

"Cogitatione, verbo et opera…*" he mumbled viciously and then continued: "I was looking at the cross the whole time, but I felt my life slipping away into some unknown world… It was unthinkable, it was blasphemy, abomination, but I could not get you out of my head. Could you ever imagine what suffering it is for a Christian to pray for sinful acts? You were the only image that I was seeing; for only you I was praying… for your death or your life with me…"

The minister suddenly stopped. He ran the fingers of his free hand through her hair, now grabbing her firmly with both of them. He breathed for a moment, hesitating, but then closed his eyes and frantically leaned to her, pressing his lips and making a deep, passionate, and fervent kiss. She did not respond. He pulled off her breathless, as he rested his forehead on hers.

"I was praying," he gasped heavily. One of his hands impatiently removed away from her ear the dark and blazing locks of her hair, holding them back. Frollo slowly and obsessively slid his cheek over her, as he closed his lips to her ear. "I was praying to God to send you either to your tomb or to my bed." The minister wheezed out, as he paused. He pulled from her and stared again at her dreadful and accusing him eyes. "But I must confess- I desired one of those paths far more than the other and you chose exactly that one."

All of a sudden he grabbed and carried her fervently to his bed, dropping her on it. He pressed himself above her as he made another deep and rough kiss. Again there was no respond back. He moved from her lips as he directed to her neck and what was exposed from her shoulder and chest. Nothing; she was no more than a motionless corpse. The minister rose above her, looking at her wildly and in frustration. The gypsy was with close eyes and only a single tear, which had rolled over her cheek, was sparkling its way down.

Frollo gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Suddenly he jumped off her, stepping back on the floor. He turned his back on her and furiously walked to his desk, which was at the opposite wall. He slammed hard his palms to the wooden surface, which was full with papers and books. His eyes stared blindly through the window the raining sky as his fingers bent with rage, grabbing and rumpling the documents beneath it. He paused for a second, sighing bitterly, as he angrily pushed and tossed all that was in his hands and reach off the desk, noisily leaving the papers spread and fall down. He faced again the gypsy, who had sat at the edge of the bed and was following coldly and indifferently him with her eyes.

"You never chose, did you," the minister drawled with surprisingly managed voice.

He smirked bitterly. Frollo begun slowly, but nervously to walk to the fireplace consumed in some kind of thoughts. He stopped near it as he stared wordlessly at the gypsy, who had pierced her emerald eyes right at him.

"Lord is my witness," the minister started with some kind of painful tranquility, "The moment I saw you I fought with all my strength the temptation, which Lucifer had sent me… But your face, your hair, and your body, which you were revealing so well with all the motions of your unholy dance, made my efforts doomed before they have even started… I tried to disregard, to overlook all the delicious curves of your forms, but how could I? I was completely fascinated, charmed, bewitched, and damned."

"And then you had to make it worse- to defy me in public; to make me desire you even more… When I could not just ignore you I sent soldiers after you. But that was even of lesser use- no matter of where you were, of where you were hiding, you were always next to me… Before my eyes, in my thoughts, during my restless nights, in my dreams and desires; close to my ear, whispering delightfully all those pleasures, which I had before forbidden to myself, and which I believed were dormant deep inside me…" he paused as he took a deep breath, and then continued more obsessed and more doomed:

"I knew you were sent for my perdition and I know it still… but did I care; do I care? No," his eyes moved restlessly away from her, as he made a couple of random steps before he stopped moving and continued: "You have been mine and yet you have never been mine…" Frollo looked straight at her.

"The first time I saw you I wished to reject all my beliefs for one night with you; the first night I was with you I felt how the Hell itself was surrounding me, having me, and burning me… And yet I wanted you more than ever. But my want to you was a desire of pure sin, of hellfire… of lust."

The minister looked blindly aside, avoiding her eyes. He remained silent for a long time as if he was struggling what to say.

"Have I ever felt something else than the carnal sin of flesh," he finally said with a low and restless voice. Frollo stared at her numb expression: "I have," he drawled with fire in his eyes, and then directed them to the floor.

"When I saw you dance in that afternoon you appeared to me as an illusion; or a dream, which a man can realize that it is only a fantasy, but still his heart is tortured by the disappointment of never being able to have it. And even now, after all that has happened between us, that pain is not ceased in me, but the opposite- the weight, the torment, the agony, and the suffering in my chest is more than you can ever imagine…" he paused. The minister still did not seem able to make eye contact with her.

He circled randomly the room, before he stopped again near the fireplace and sighed heavily. The gypsy was neither saying anything nor moving herself from the sitting position at the end of the bed.

"I know I have done things to you," he said, staring the burning fire, "a horrible things; I know that I have hurt you in many ways; and I know you could only hate me for this… But I fooled myself that I could just have you and then forget you; I believed that after conquering you your spell would work no more over me. But alas, you are my temptation, my weakness, lust, sin, and my perdition. Only with one look you have succeeded to curse me with a blissful hell; to torture me and I as a damned man could do nothing against it but only to beg you for more of it."

The minister sighed heavily as he shook his head:

"But it is never enough," his eyes moved from the fireplace, as he stared at the floor before him. "I doomed my soul in eternal suffering, and yet all that I can think is you… A common gypsy; a dancer; an enchanter; a sorceress; a witch; a supernatural being; an angel of fire; a temptress, a seductive goddess of sin, or even a celestial being… It is you who are all those things, but for me you are just a torturer of my miserable soul; my punishment and perdition… I readily sacrificed my eternal life in Hell for you, but I don't want to be alone there anymore…"

Frollo lifted his eyes, locking them straight at hers. His stare was full with obsession, torment, and anguish of some painful realization.

"Yes, Esmeralda, I do love you."

* * *

*In thought, word and deed


	17. Love II

AN: Ok, I am reeeaaallly guilty for not updating sooner, especially when I was having that chapter so clearly planned in my head even before some of the previous ones, but somehow I could simply not make myself to sit and write it. Vacations are awful time for writing! Anyhow, I hope you'll enjoy and I am more than guarantying that the next would be updated sooner.

* * *

Love II:

_Perdition_

_Esmeralda was more than a pretty girl; she was beautiful, the dream of every reasonable and having eyes man. She knew that and she had more than once benefitted from the foolishness and the superficiality of men. And they did nothing but to admire her, secretly and not so secretly to desire and court her. She had been cherished and appreciated for her beauty ever since she could remember herself. And yet, only two men in her entire life of adoration had ever said to her "I love you." _

**_THE BEDROOM _**of the minister was dark, stilled, silent, and motionless. Second after second was elapsing hollowly one after another. Most of the candles in the room had been long ago burned up, and now the main source of light was coming from the fireplace, which with its last flames was brightening up everything around with dark shades of orange and red. However, the room was remaining rather cold and dark.

It was not stopping to pour outside from hours now as the blunt sound of the beating rain drops was all that was ringing in the ears of the two motionless figures in the room. The fire was abating more and more, leaving from its former greatness only heated and crackling red embers behind. With the ceasing of the fire the light gradually became to fade as well, but nothing else seemed to change.

Drop after drop; persisting, constant, echoing, and not weakening the noisy sound of the splashing rain outside, which seemed more alive than anything else around, was as if equally measuring the elapsing moments of an endless time.

_I do love you._

Nothing had changed since then; after the minister's last words the room had become entirely dead.

Frollo was still standing near the fireplace with a motionless stare towards the gypsy. Esmeralda on her part was still sitting on the edge of the bed resembling a stone statue, whose eyes were fixed on his with a mixture of indifference, apathy, reproaching, and sorrow. Time was passing by, but nothing except the fading light from the candles and the fireside was changing.

The minister was intensely watching and observing the stilled girl, as if waiting to study even the tiniest motion that she might produce, but she did none. And he just stood up there- desperately wanting her to react and in the same time feeling the urge to tell her so much more. Words of kindness and spite were wildly spinning and making his head to feel as if it would explode. He was not finished yet; there were still so much more untold things that he needed to let out from his mind; so much more confusion and certainty, rage and affection, detest and love…

Frollo's lips were burning up to speak and destroy the unbearable silence, but he could not; as if everything that he wanted to say was sticking up in his throat; as if his mind was no longer master of his body. He was blindly staring at her, losing all his senses and sinking in an ocean of painful emotions. What he had just said; why he had said it? He certainly had not planned it; he had not planned any of that at all. It was just as if he was thinking out loud and he could do nothing to shut himself. Did he mean what he had said? Of course he did, he would not have said it otherwise. And yet, the tranquility of finally confessing to himself and coming to peace with his own feelings to the gypsy was substituted with the excruciating anxiety of seeking and awaiting her reaction.

He loved her, but the moment he had said it he was instantly regretting for his words. The minister had completely exposed himself to her; he had told her all the sufferings of his soul; he had confessed his greatest weakness- not lust, but love; and with all that he had willingly thrown a slave at her feet. But there was so much more to tell; so much more to confess… He wished to take back all of his words, but he desired to continue exposing all of his torment and frustration to her, too. He could do neither of that.

Frollo wanted more than anything else to say how sorry he was; to drop on his knees and to beg for her forgiveness; to plead miserably for her mercy the way a sinner seeks it from God. And yet, no matter of how dazed he was, the minister was clearly seeing her indifferent, scorching, and frozen eyes, which were soullessly pierced at his, even though his expression was no more different than hers. He was not delusional; he knew better- after all that he had done to her regret and words of love would do nothing to change it.

Nevertheless, he could do nothing, but wait. Frollo was more than desperately, madly, and obsessively clung into the stilled moment of awaiting her response.

Esmeralda suddenly shifted her head, moving away her eyes from his and directing them down to the floor and her feet. She could no longer stare at him; she could no longer be motionless and wordless when so many thoughts were torturing her mind. The simple shift of her eyes was the first move made from some long time now, and she was more than sure that had not gone unnoticed by the intense look of the minister.

The room was still light enough so she could see fairly well the spot on the floor, which she seemed so carefully to observe, but the gypsy was not really paying any notice of what was before her… She had received the answer of her question; the girl was clearly remembering that she was the one who had started all these when she had asked him earlier in that day whether he loved her. She remembered all that, but from some time now her mind seemed to struggle to recall why she had demanded something like that from him in the first place…

Nevertheless, she knew now something that she wished she never did. Of course it did not do any difference; of course there was nothing he could do or say to make her hate him any less. And yet, her mind could not stop repeating over and over again his words. Words which she had heard only one time before, but she had convinced herself they were not sincere.

Involuntary Esmeralda wondered how the same phrase can sound and mean so different things when said by different people. When Phoebus had told her that he loved her he had said it lightly, perhaps mechanically, but tenderly and making her feel warmth and affection. Of course she was not feeling that now when she recalled the captain's words; the gypsy was feeling betrayal and lies, but also the foolish hope, for which she reproached herself, that he might be true to her and come back to safe her. No, that was just delusions…

The girl sighed heavily, as she was still not daring to move her stare from the floor. She had heard for a second time the statement of love, but it felt so much more different. How could words of affection at all sound so dark, hopeless, and tormented? Esmeralda was not looking at the minister anymore but she was seeing over and over again his obsessive look and bitter voice when he had answered her to a question, which was never supposed to be asked. Shivers were running all over her, but she could not stop thinking about it; about every accusation and wretched confession that he had made to her that evening.

_I knew you were sent for my perdition and I know it still… but did I care; do I care? No_

_Only with one look you have succeeded to curse me with a blissful hell… _

The gypsy suddenly lifted her head looking automatically at the window in front of her. The rain was still pouring heavily outside. She listened at the sharp and noisy sound numbly. Even when he wanted to tell her that he loved her he was doing nothing more than proclaiming that he was guiltless and she was to blame. Was that what he believed love was? His love was only humiliating, hurting, and causing her nothing but misfortune, and yet somehow there was no doubt in her that Frollo's confession of love was far more sincere and true than the one of her beloved captain.

Esmeralda very slightly turned and looked with the corner of her eyes the still motionless minister near the fireside. She instantly looked down at the floor again. The girl knew more than well that her reaction to his speech was all he was waiting for. She swallowed and closed her eyes; the burden of everything that had happened that day and the memories of the past sufferings felt rushing violently all over her. Frollo had done so much evil to her; he had tortured so many people just to find her; he had threatened her over and over again until she had finally surrendered to him; he had brutally taken from her the dignity of her virtue and ever since he had been penetrating, molesting, and abusing her every time he wanted. And for his crimes with her she had received nothing more but more excruciating pain when the prove of his lustful and forceful acts was the conceiving of a life, for which termination she had to suffer. Her body had probably underwent through all kinds of awful tortures, which she had never before imagine possible.

Esmeralda stared at the floor again as she added to all those horrible memories the very recent ones of before three days when his wrath had left her body bruised and hurting even now. And yes, now… such a shocking contrast on the background of all these… Now, the torturer, the criminal, the merciless villain was saying that he loved her. How was she supposed to react on something like that? How could she ever believe him, how could she ever care?

The gypsy sighed heavily, overwhelmed with the heavy weight in her chest of detest, sorrow, pain, and yet the bitter feeling of realizing that the minister truly meant his words.

The girl dazedly put her feet more steadily on the ground as she very slowly lifted herself from the sitting position on the bed, feeling not lightly all of her aching and harmed muscles. Her eyes were still stubbornly observing the floor before her, as her entire head was lifelessly bent down. Esmeralda blindly watched her feet as she made step after step slowly coming to the fireplace, but stopping herself near the end of it, far from the minister, so that the golden orange embers and the rest of the wide stone fireside was all well seen between them. The gypsy was still looking at the floor, but Frollo's eyes had very carefully and obsessively stared at her throughout every motion that she had made and were now burningly pierced at her motionless body, which was standing as a stone statue before him.

Esmeralda had begun again clueless; the shift from the long paralyzed position to the simple standing and the making of a few steps had made pretty fresh in her mind and body the pain from the bruises and the other brutal traumas that the minister had caused her just days before.

_I know I have done things to you… horrible things; I know that I have hurt you in many ways; and I know you could only hate me for this… _

The girl slightly lifted her head, as she could now barely see the painfully familiar black gown, which was falling over his feet. Oh yes, she hated him; but it was even more than that- she despised, loathed, and longed for his death. What difference did it make that he had realized his terrible deeds to her? He had not even tried to regret for them; he had just stated that he knew about them.

For a second the gypsy imagined rushing to him and slapping him with all her strength. She imagined bursting into tears and curses; punching him over and over again and viciously laughing and ridiculing all his pitiful words.

The bedroom remained completely silent, with the only exception of the crackling embers in the fireplace and the noise from the outside pouring rain. The two turned to each other figures did resemble nothing more but frozen statues.

… _the first night I was with you I felt how the Hell itself was surrounding me, having me, and burning me..._

Esmeralda succeeded to pull herself out of the numb state, as she realized that she had been standing frozen there for some really long time now.

_Have I ever felt something else than the carnal sin of flesh… I have _

Why she could not stop repeating over and over again his words? She was not supposed to listen to him; to care about what he was saying; to remember it…

_When I saw you dance- … a dream, which a man can realize that it is only a fantasy, but still his heart is tortured by the disappointment of never being able to have it._

The gypsy, still with a head down, lifted gradually and numbly her hands, as her trembling fingers reached the front laces of the black surcoat of her dress.

What was she doing? Was she even aware; was she even at herself? Had she intended to do that when she had stood up from the bed at first place? What was _that_ she was doing? Had she completely lost her mind; had she forgotten?

The girl automatically took tightly the thin laces between her fingers, as she pulled down the one and after that the other, slowly untangling them. She was still blindly staring at the floor as the surcoat opened into two pieces once it was no longer held together. The gypsy's hands mechanically grabbed at it, numbly stripping it off her shoulders and then letting it freely to slide down her back and to drop on the floor.

Now the gypsy was only with the red dress beneath the black surcoat. She was still not losing sight of the floor as after a brief pause her trembling hand grabbed the neckline of the gown near her shoulder, intending to pull out her other arm from the sleeve's dress.

Suddenly Frollo placed his hand over hers, making her stop what she was doing. Esmeralda shivered as she realized how close he had gotten to her.

"What are you doing," the minister asked dully with his usual low voice, which however had some intonation of anxiety that the gypsy had never heard before.

Those first uttered words, which broke the stilled silence, echoed over and over again in the years of the girl, who did not know whether his sudden touch or the question that followed made her startle more.

Esmeralda very faintly and slowly started to lift her head up, but stopped in the middle of it unable to face him. She glared blindly at the white collar of his gown before her, as she breathed heavily.

"What does it look like," the gypsy said far quieter than him, but it was remarkable how she had succeeded to suppress all her tears and urges of sobs, leaving on the surface only a numb and daze expression.

"Why," Frollo asked breathless after a long pause, in which he was still holding her hand to her shoulder.

The gypsy found enough strength to lift her green eyes boldly at his as she said rather cynically:

"Does it matter?"

The minister observed speechless her cold expression, which by all means was expressing her great hatred and detest to him. Then what were her actions supposed to be? Frollo sighed deeply as he let go of her hand, leaving it to fall freely down her body. She did not move any further. Now they were very close to each other, wordless, motionless and intensely gazing at each other. Face to face their locked stares seemed entirely to consume and to be consumed by the other's eyes. Silence was more than oppressing; it was heavy, deep, and tormenting, as if it by itself was preventing them to utter. An eternal stillness, wondering, hesitation, and indecisiveness were mingling with the raging fires of the painful desire to just put his burning lips on hers, but the minister did not. After all that he had told her he just craved her to want him, however her wants seemed now a greater mystery to him than ever before.

He slowly placed his right hand over her right shoulder, feeling a great anxiety of just touching her. She was continuing to stare at him motionless. May be encouraged by something in her eyes or may be just couldn't restraining the need to hold her in his arms anymore, Frollo caressed gently and scarcely her cheek with his fingers and palm, as he slid his other hand along her collarbone and neck. The trembling fingers on her neck progressed further, as he ran them through her hair and grabbed tenderly her scalp. Her big green eyes were not separating from his, but she did by no means change her expression.

Frollo observed her as a hawk; obsessively, anxiously, longingly, cravingly, passionately; and yet no matter of how well he had her in his grips he seemed to hesitate. The minister slowly leaned towards her, but stopped for another second, restlessly studying with his eyes every part of her face. He sighed deeply as the pressure to act overcame the one to watch.

The moment the minister's lips pressed the gypsy's, he felt a wave of both releasing and anxiety to run through him. The sensation was at the same time gratifying and tormenting. It was as if a whole eternity had been passed since he had tasted her for the last time; as if her lips were water or a gasp of air for the wretched one who had been struggling of not possessing those so vital things of the human survival. So longing, passionate, and needing was this simple touch of lips, and yet the thought of her rejecting it was more than unbearable. He slightly kissed her; a kiss, which was not at all taken indifferently by the gypsy who responded barely and yet agreeably to him. Encouraged, Frollo slid hungrily and ardently his tongue in her open mouth, and as he pulled even closer her head to his, his motions became more fervent, but still tender.

Esmeralda's body was completely paralyzed, but her mouth was barely, but compliantly following his passionate kisses. She did not dare to move, and yet somehow she could not refuse him either. All that time of suffering and torture; all that time in which he had been shoving his shameless tongue between her objecting lips; had she forgotten them all? No, of course not; how could she? She was feeling betraying her own principals and losing herself into something dark, ill, and perverted.

The gypsy finally found the strength to lift her numb limbs and as she placed her hands on his chest she abruptly pushed herself off him, stepping a few steps backwards. For a second her enlarged green eyes stared at his puzzled ones, but she instantly directed her head to the floor, unable to face him any further. She breathed heavily, trying to recollect her thoughts, but

_Yes, Esmeralda, I do love you_

echoed solemnly over and over again in her mind.

The confused girl looked at him hesitantly, and then directed her uncertain eyes to the bed in the room. Without saying anything she slowly walked to it; carefully placing herself seated on the edge of it near the pillows before she finally gathered the courage to lift her eyes back to the minister. Frollo, who was still standing near the fireside and who had not move much ever since she had pulled herself off him, was observing her now with an appearance that somehow expressed bewilderment, surprise, hope, bleakness, and yet the best manageable composure at the same time.

The gypsy's eyes looked aside, unable to be locked at his burning ones anymore, as she wished to break the awkward stillness.

"I still have to keep up my promise for the night you let me go outside, don't I," the girl whispered, sounding spiteful, reproachful, and yet somewhat embarrassed and inviting.

To hear her reminding him of his own base ways, which he had exercised on her to make her respond to his passions was not at all what the minister wanted to hear right now. Frollo felt bitter guilt to fill up his chest as his eyes wrestled on and off her. He spoke up after a pause:

"I do not wish you to pretend."

Something in his low voice, which sounded regretful and genuine, made the girl's stare meet again his. Esmeralda felt more than awkward; she honestly did not know how to react on that statement. She did not know why she was doing anything of what she was doing that night or whether at all she herself planned to pretend or not.

"I know," the vague words escaped her lips, as she felt that it was all that she could say concerning that matter.

However, the untold emotions were all well described between their locked eyes, where the minister's desires met their consent in the big, green, and yet sad eyes of the gypsy.

After another stilled moment of hesitation, Frollo advanced to the bed, sitting close to the girl (but not without leaving her some reasonable space between them), as he was not looking away from her face even for a second. He stared passively at her as if awaiting her to react, give him permission, or even just to suggest him what she desired him to do. Indeed, he was entirely, body and soul, burning and craving to touch her again; to embrace, taste, love, and have her, but the unhappy need to have all those pleasures given willingly had reached its peak.

He was wordlessly piercing his fiery and obsessive eyes in hers, which were as well returning him with a stare. However, the gypsy's look was different; it was confused, naïve, sad, and embarrassed. The girl had at that moment such an odor of inexperience and innocence around her that if it was not the minister himself who had taken from her the virtue of her chaste he would have been convinced that her body had never known the impurities of the flesh. Nevertheless, the statue of modesty was continuing her motionless glare; neither inviting nor refusing him.

Finally, Frollo slowly lifted his arm and caressed her cheek scarcely with the palm of his hand. Her skin felt more than precious, dear, and loved; however the girl almost immediately directed her eyes down in awkwardness, making the tender motions to stop. She paused for a brief moment, sighing lightly, but then little by little she shifted her head at the opposite direction of him, now facing the stone wall behind the bed, as her body gradually followed her. As she was now seated with her back to him, Esmeralda (still with bent head) delicately lifted her arms, directing them above her shoulders, gathering unhurriedly the volume locks of raven hair in her fingers, removing them from her back and neck, and placing them on the one side of her face and collarbone. By doing so, laces of her red dress, which were crossed on her back revealed before the view of the minister.

The permission was given, and yet the intense atmosphere was not getting any better. After a brief pause the girl sensed the cold fingers of the judge reaching and touching her exposed skin a little bit below her neck. Esmeralda involuntary shivered as her breathe ceased. There was something entirely wrong and ill, which was weighting in her chest; something bad, which was eating her up from inside and it was making her feel guilt and filth for even the slightest offering and submissiveness to him.

Frollo's fingers became very slowly, but firmly to run down her spine, as his palm as well closed to her back, passing one by one the crossed laces of her dress. The gypsy's heart became to pulsate faster and faster as she closed her eyes and unintentionally gave in to her other senses. Her mouth felt dry and tasteless; the smell of ember from the fireplace had filled up her lungs; the noise of the pouring rain, which was now accompanied with loud thunders, was ringing into her years; but all that was just fading away before the awareness of his touch on her back. The anticipation of every move of him was as if reminding her of all the horrors that he had done to her, but all at the same time she sensed an unhappy feeling, which was making her heartbeat to increase and her face to flush with embarrassment at the teasing pleasure.

The minister had reached the lower part of her spine where the two crossed laces were joined in a simple bow. His other hand lightly held her waist as he untangled the joined laces. His hand trembled, but it did not take long before the crossed ties became to be slowly taken out and loosened, as the two pieces of the back of the gypsy's dress begun to reveal more and more of her soft flesh underneath it. Frollo slid his fingers between the cloth, desiring to touch and feel as much as he could from the delightful, soft, and dark skin of the girl. Still holding her with his other hand to the waist he emerged closer to her, as at the same time he was still exploring more and more of her uncovered back. His fingers, palm, and wrist became tangled between the red laces of the dress and her flesh; his motions were eager and passionate, and yet somewhat restrained. The occasional lightening from the outside thunders and rain was exposing before his enlarged eyes more of the delightful view and his hunger for her was raging in him unbearably. But the created tension between them, a result of all revealed, confessed, and even of the untold truths that had taken place that day, was preventing him from devoting himself entirely to his urges.

Frollo's attention shifted to her tender neck and by now almost entirely exposed shoulders, longing to spill all of his restrained passion on the soft flesh in the forms of yearning and deep kisses, sinking into the skin teeth and fingers, sucking, and yet even more unrestrained acts, which however were not intended to harm her, but rather to give her forbidden pleasures of ecstasy. Nevertheless, instead of that he just indecisively leaned to her and printed a soft kiss on her nape, scarcely retrieving after that, as his head remained very close to her. The gypsy barely flinched, fixing her shy eyes on a point somewhere down her legs and sensing his breaths on her skin. Trembling with a mixture of excitement and awkwardness beneath every tender motion that the minister made upon her, she let herself to be caressed and kissed again and again all over her neck and shoulders, which were giving her a teasing delight.

Frollo's lips were not separating from her dark flesh, as gradually both of his hands left their former occupations and laid gently upon her exposed part of her shoulders. He slid them to the loosened side of her dress, as he started so slowly and hesitantly to pull both of her sleeves down her arms that if she had made the slightest remark of objection he would have stopped himself immediately. He had stripped her fully to her elbows (as the cloth from her front and back was as well falling down), when he paused. Not aware of why he had done that, Esmeralda numbly directed one of her arms to the other, intending to pull from it completely her sleeve, but her hand touched his which was still on her elbow. Blushed and with great awkwardness the girl grabbed a little bit below the red sleeve pulling it out of her arm. She did the same with her other sleeve, remaining completely naked to her waist. She sighed lightly as she barely turned her sight to him.

The minister was looking at her exposed back, neck, shoulders, and arms with guilt. With every flash of lightening from the outside storm the judge was discovering more and more of the blue, purple, and yellow swellings and bruises all over her revealed flesh. Was he indeed the reason for all of them? His hands dropped from her, as he felt too great of a shame and blame to touch her. He backed up a little bit from her as he stared at her wounds numbly. Of course he was more than well aware of what he was doing to her when he caused her all that pain and suffering three days ago; of course there was still some rage left in him which was continuing to feel jealousy and great annoyance whenever recalling her actions, but the guilt that he was undergoing when seeing the consequences of his wrath was unexplainably for him present more than anything else in that moment.

Esmeralda, who had barely looked at him, returned her head back down to her legs, which were now covered not only with the skirt of the dress, but also with the stripped top from it. She hesitated for a moment, but her actions and thoughts had lost long ago any sense and reason. The girl shifted her body again, as now her seating posture and her face turned back to the minister. Almost instantly as she stared at his serious and dark expression she felt blushing, as chills of shame ran through her entire body. Without thinking the half-naked girl automatically put her arms over her breasts, as her eyes were awkwardly wondering all the way from his face to down the floor and back up.

The gypsy had realized more than well that the objects of his numb attention were her bruises, which he had himself afflicted to her not long ago. She succeeded to keep her eyes at his for more than a second, clearly recognizing in his serious stare remorse, guilt, and shame as well. He was remaining wordless, but only by glaring at him she could tell how much he was repentant; as if he was trying to tell her that, and yet knew better of how hollow the words would sound. But did she wish to hear his apologies; was she ready for her numerous ill memories to be revived again only to be soothed with half-told and useless for her utterings of regret? No.

With a deep inhale the gypsy got closer to him, sensing the increasing of his heartbeat. She agitatedly lifted her head, locking her green eyes in him. Without further expanding the awkwardness, the girl removed from her naked breasts her arms, as she put them lightly on his shoulders and placed even more barely her lips onto his.

A respond to her soft kiss was quickly given back, as Frollo pressed slightly firmer her mouth, moistening it with his tongue. Another and another kiss followed, each of which was becoming a little bit more confident and deeper for the two of them. The minister's hands slid passionately (but very cautiously) along her completely naked back; he could not forget so easily for her bruises, but he could not as well refuse the pleasure of the offered fruit. He pulled her closer to him, entirely embracing her naked torso with his arms; however still forbidding himself to give in completely to his instincts. He kissed her again and again, doing nothing further than concentrating on his deep motions of his tongue and the hold of her back.

The gypsy suddenly shied away from him, breaking up the kisses, and looking again with awkwardness somewhere down as her stare wrestled between the white collar of the minister's gown and the black cloth beneath it. Her hands detached from his shoulders, as trembling she directed them to his throat. Nervously her fingers removed his white collar from the way, as anxiously they became to unbutton his black clothe. With obvious uneasiness and timidity she succeeded to undo three of them before she could no longer control the fast beating of her heart, the shortage of air in her lungs, and the wavering of her fingers. She had focused her eyes and her entire attention at the next button, as suddenly the hands of the minister, which took tenderly hers in his, startled and left her motionless. After a pause she mechanically moved her arms away from his, dropping them down. Still not separating her sight from his gown she observed numbly as he gradually opened the rest of it all the way down, leaving the two black pieces of cloth fall freely aside and to reveal his bare chest and pants underneath them.

Esmeralda's eyes were fixed in front of her, where her attention was taken by the red and still fresh traces of scratches on his chest- the only mark of pain that she had succeeded to leave on him and which acted as a prove of her resentment, only-capable-revenge, and resistance against all the numerous physical traumas that he had printed upon her far weaker body.

She watched the marks in complete state of daze as one of her hands uncertainly reached to the flesh-wounds. The girl put her delicate, but trembling fingers lightly on them and begun to trace each of the scratches from their beginning to their end. She was entirely occupying herself with the view and the sensation of her outlining path, as her fingertips were sensuously passing across his pale skin, red wounds, and the silver hairs of his chest. She could see and feel his lungs rising and falling heavily, and even though her look was following her hand she was sensing more than well his pierced in her eyes.

The last of the traced red marks finished a little bit above his floating ribs as the gypsy paralyzed herself when she had reached its end. She swallowed scarcely, gathering enough strength to look again at the minister's face. She did; her green and full of some kind of innocent embarrassment eyes met his fervent ones. He was just observing her, as if provoking her to continue her touches over him, but also at the same time too undecided whether she would desire his. With locked stares the gypsy indecisively relaxed not only the tips of her fingers, but the rest of her hand too over his flesh. Her trembling and unease palm slid over his stomach and proceeded further down as the sensation of cloth suddenly startled her and made her automatically look down to her hand again. She had reached his pants. Esmeralda looked awkwardly at him, blushing as her fingers lightly slid over the dark cloth and advanced to his loins. Her restless eyes traveled between his face, chest, and further down, as she felt him arousing beneath her shaking hand. She withdrew it, looking down at the swelling part and then up to his eyes.

Full with uneasiness and discomfiture, Esmeralda backed away from him, shyly bending her head down at the process. A deep sorrowful sigh left her chest, when she looked back to the rest of the bed and tossed aside the cover, leaving only the white sheets beneath it. She started to move further in it, as with a dose of clumsiness, dictated by her nervousness, the gypsy positioned herself sitting on the bed. She cast unease glimpse at the minister, letting after it her back to fall on the sheets and her head on the pillow behind her. She was now lying on the bed half-naked with eyes fixed on the ceiling; a heart racing wildly; and breathlessly awaiting in confusion what was to follow, similar to an excited by the fear but paralyzed with horror lamb.

Frollo observed her motionless as if studying in details every feature of her expression, posture, and how they so strangely contradicted with what it seemed her actions to offer him. The awkwardness and uneasiness written on her face was as well surging into him, however his appearance (except his fiery eyes) was rather dark and serious. Part of him wanted to tell her that she did not have to do what she was doing; he wished to have the strength to get up and leave her at peace for the night... However, he doubted that he would have another so close to intimacy chance with her; his desires and physical needs rather than his considerations were what was urging him to grasp strongly even at the little suggested by the gypsy.

The minister, still seated but turned more to her by now, placed both of his hands at the sides of her stomach a little bit above her waist. The girl trembled at the touch of her skin with the cold rings on his fingers, but she remained still. Frollo drew his palms slowly down her flesh, advancing more and more to where the remained cloth of her dress was starting. He reached it; throughout the whole time and continuing the judge was not letting side of her expression, which was pretty much the same unease one; however her breaths had started to be more irregular and heavy.

Esmeralda inhaled deeply, holding up the air in her lungs, as the girl felt his bony fingers to go underneath her skirt. Nervous waves of some throbbing pleasure were running through her entire body; flushing, confusing, and paralyzing her into submission. The minister clutched the red cloth, pulling it further and further down and leaving naked flesh behind it. The gypsy, fully obedient to his actions, lifted slightly her pelvic up and felt the sliding away fabric from it, her hips, knees, feet… Before she could realize what had just happened, she found herself completely nude in the bed of the judge before his eyes.

The girl looked at him slightly shivering, exposed, blushed, and full of some kind of tickling with excitement embarrassment. Frollo's hungry eyes wandered all over her with fire, however with not so well concealed restlessness and tension. He paralyzed his view into hers; the exchanged stares were at the same time hollow and yet full of sorrow, regret, desire, and shame. The minister, without separating eyes from her, undressed the already opened gown, dropping it on the floor and remaining naked to the waist. He leaned towards her, giving her the kiss that his lips craved ever since parting from hers.

Frollo's hands had grabbed tenderly, but firmly the gypsy's shoulders, as the kiss was continuing. He seek her tongue, found it and sucked it fervently; he pressed harder and harder to her, consumed her moist; had his teeth tease lightly all the softness in her mouth, and then he shoved as deeply as he could his yearning tongue, pleasurably discovering that she was obeying and following all of its motions.

Suddenly the judge pulled off from her, as his dark eyes pierced at hers. Full with passion and lust he climbed over her. Esmeralda compliantly opened her bare legs, letting him position between them. By doing so an abrupt pain seized her, reminding her of all the fresh pains and traumas that she had over the down part of her body because of him. She whimpered with suppressed voice, however strong enough to interrupt the dark silence in the room. The minister looked at her, but the cry had been already ceased. He could only presume that it was because of her bruised body, but he was done for the night with the guilt of his past actions; now he was more than eager to cause pleasure to that same body.

Frollo removed the dark raven locks, which were at her front, as he ran his fingers through her hair, reaching her scalp. The uncovered new flesh aflame him even more, as all the parts of her neck were adorned with his tender and passionate kisses. His palm, still on the back of her head and buried into her hair, started to play with it; massaging her scalp, caressing it, withdrawing back, running again his fingers through her volumes of hair, clutching them, and teasingly pulling her locks. His other hand slid beneath her, ardently rubbing the lower part of her spine.

Treating and pleasing her senses like that, the girl's body became more relaxed into his hold; however even though she was more than cooperative with the former kisses, she remained rather inactive in her responses to him now. Caressing, kissing, and massaging; Esmeralda could not help it but to raise her chest higher and higher, thirsting for an air, which no matter of how much she tried to inhale or exhale, she never seemed to manage to catch her breath. A burst of suppressed moan, a gasp relieved all the pressure of withheld ecstasy that had been concentrated in her lungs. She gasped again and again; helpless, pressed, and underneath him. The tenders that he was giving her; the still fresh memories of his villainy; the gratification; the hate; the love; and the rage of all others surging emotions that had long ago lost their connotation of good and bad in her heart were now just a burden of ill and pleasure; all that was just begging to be released; to be grasped at the present moment; to benefit from it, to enjoy it… why then she was still withholding?

Frollo's moistened lips had finished the adoration of every part of her neck and were now tracing and kissing her collarbones. The girl panted and panted with restrained whispers, feeling his hardened member pressed closely to her loins, however he was not just yet finished to stimulate all her senses before his entrance in her.

Both of his hands left their former occupations, as he lifted his head from beneath hers and looked her in the eyes. Her dazed stare, even fuller with embarrassment than before, looked at his in confusion of pleasure and awkwardness; she did not wish him at all to stop, but could she admit it? Hallow seconds passed; tensed, wordless, craving…The minister's hands directed to her face, caressing her cheeks lightly with the tips of his fingers. He put tenderly his palms over her as well, sliding them along her chin, neck, shoulders, and proceeding further down her body, however passing through her arms and then emphasizing on each of her ribs as he was purposely avoiding her breasts. The gypsy gasped very faintly in protest, keeping mostly to herself the emerged desire to feel him over the untreated area.

Frollo's hands had reached her belly as they grabbed her lower waist and ceased. His head, which had followed the motion of his arms and had correspondingly gotten over her stomach; leaned from its position above, as he placed a soft kiss over her dark skin. He made another and another, progressing further down, passing her belly-button, including his tongue, circling, tending, wetting… The unease waves of pleasure and tension were bathing the entire body of the girl with shivers of ecstasy. She moaned unable to restrain herself any longer as his lips advanced to her most tender area. He stopped, lifting his head and once again teasing her enough so to tremble for more. Their eyes met again, as he climbed towards her face. Esmeralda circled her arms behind his neck, pulling him closer to her rising chest, as she could no longer play that game.

What was happening; she was most certainly not planning any of that. Somehow with unease she had agreed to be compliant with him, but that was nothing like before; before so consumed to satisfy his urges he had caused her only pain, suffering, and humiliation. But now he was pleasing all of her senses, making her awkwardly beg him for more.

His face was slowly rubbing between her breasts, as the gypsy involuntary started to run her fingers through his silver hairs. Oh how caressing were her actions toward her villain! His hands slid as well up her body, as they finally started to caress lightly her chest. Beneath, above, aside, circling… all parts of the curvaceous temptations, except her nipples, were satisfied, as with every move his palms and fingers began to press her firmer and more passionate. She panted again and again, flushing even more if possible when his mouth and tongue begun to suck her skin and to adorn it with wet affections. He seized her hands as well, bringing them to his face and treating them with tender and fervent kisses. He stopped, climbing upper to the level of her eyes and piercing them again with his.

The awkward stare continued, as Esmeralda could not help it but gasp in delight when she sensed his fingers finally passing teasingly across her hardened nipples. He carefully studied all her reactions, as gradually he was becoming to rub with his palms her entire breasts. So close to her, so intimately, so pleasingly… the dazed girl without realizing or having any control over her actions slid her hands along his arms and shoulders, embracing and holding them tightly to his broad back. Her palms traveled down his spine, nervously trembling more and more while she was advancing to his pants. The cloth was now beneath her hands, as consumed by the shocking need that had overwhelmed her to finally consummate the long night, the gypsy in complete trance slid her trembling fingers into his pants.

She flushed, realizing her actions, as her breath ceased. However, her hands, entirely not in her control, slid further in as they drew him closer between her excited legs. The gypsy did not at all comprehend in her head how from so much cruelty and tyranny he was achieving now to make her need him so badly. She gasped again, begging for air, as with great shakings she tried to take hold of the cloth and to pull it off him. Between her wavering fingers the fabric was awkwardly sliding away, making her even more embarrassed and nervous. Thankfully, she felt his hands coming to her rescue, as they pulled off his pants enough so to free her hands, which dropped numbly aside her body.

The minister rouse above her, taking off completely his clothe and remaining naked before her. His burning eyes observed restlessly her compliant expression, similar to an innocent lamb that had given itself completely in the hands of its master. Could he restrain any further what was hurting him to escape?

Frollo put his hands beneath the lower part of her back; slightly lifting her he proceeded to her buttocks, firmly grabbing it and sliding his palms and fingers along her hips. Esmeralda, pierced by the pain of her traumas, whimpered silently as her teeth bitted her lip in order to suppress the pain. Her already parted legs were lifted a little bit towards her as he positioned his throbbing manhood closer to her loins. He was still not entering; he was pressing onto her, observing her rapid breathing, her face, her chest; all that was gasping heavily in the tensed moment. The wetness between her legs was something as new to him as all the rest affectionate gestures that she had given him that night. He watched her provokingly; in fire and lust; their stares were locked from some time now in awkward suspense as finally the minister started to penetrate her slowly and still not to let sight of her green eyes.

She trembled; she moaned; she ceased breathing, devoting herself completely to the sensation that she had so violently before rejected and had extracted nothing but pain and disgust. The mixture of delight and the still bruised and hurting her limbs and body was wildly uniting and raging in her, leaving her breathless and wordless. Gasp after gasp; he had entered only the half of his hardened member in her when he withdrew it back. He did the same again and again; hungrily examining with his eyes the longing in hers, surely the same one that was burning in his stare as well. Her whimpers were of pleading delight, as she wished to close her eyes, but she could not.

He leaned closer to her, dropping her legs and putting his hands on the level of her shoulders. Still face to face with her, he thirsted deeper into her, making her produce new sounds of sensations, as he alone gasped in pleasure. He pushed and pushed, withdrawing himself before entering his whole potential into her, as he suddenly paused above her and consuming all the pleasure written in her eyes he made the longing thrust deep, deep into her at the length of his whole member. She moaned, lost in delight that she had never suspected to receive from any man, let alone him.

Penetrating, slow, hard, and deep; grunts, gasps, and groans were escaping from the lungs of both of them (even though still somewhat trying to be controlled) and were piercing the tensed silence. Indescribable pleasures, which were never before experienced, were running throughout both of their bodies. Esmeralda was all shivering and trembling; her shaking legs, which were still numbly hurting her from the bruises on them, felt even weaker, as she desired to circle them around him. She did not; she was still restraining herself; she was still forbidding herself to let the experienced delight control entirely her actions.

Frollo bent his elbows, supporting himself on them as he came closer to her, pressing and rubbing his chest onto hers. His motions inside of her were now deep, rhythmic, and slow. He broke their stare, putting his face aside of hers and burring his wet by the sweat forehead into her raven hairs. He thirsted deeper and deeper, remaining breathless from the sensuous efforts.

Esmeralda unable to restrain anything a second more grabbed shaking with pleasure his shoulders and spread her fingers on his pale skin. She clasped her body close to his, entirely lost and guided only by the rhythmic motions of his actions. She moaned louder and louder; more often and more, as nothing was to be withheld anymore. Moan, groan, gasp; a duet between both of them was taking place, however hers were quite more frequent than his.

_But my want to you was a desire of pure sin, of hellfire… of lust._

The words of the minister from earlier that night rushed violently into her head. Now her mind was painfully throwing itself between complete ecstasy and complete bitterness. The tears, which she had suppressed throughout the whole day, sparkled in her green eyes.

_You have been mine and yet you have never been mine…_

Could it be what she was doing now a submission at last? Had her torturer; her reason for all her misfortunes had at the end what he wanted?

Esmeralda's moans were continuing, they were in no way compliant to the commands of her mind; however she felt as one after another tears were running down her eyes.

Frollo, still with buried face into her hair, was continuing his rhythmic, slow, but deep motions inside of her. The incredible sensation of her soft, raven locks around him; the scent of her neck and skin; the friction of his chest with her breasts; the compliance; the exciting sounds that were escaping her lips; the gratifying dampness between her thighs with every entrance in her- oh, the minister had never experienced such a thrilling heaven before!

His face shifted, wishing to adore hers with tender kisses; however his lips tasted the salt wetness of her tears. He lifted his head above hers, distinguishing clearly by what was left of the candles and fire light in the room the covered with tears and sorrow face of the gypsy. He stared at her, struck involuntary by guilt and remorse, as he stopped himself completely above her. He was recognizing utterly well the reason of her sadness; however he wished to ask her what was wrong. He did not; he knew more than well that everything was wrong… He stared blankly; oh how hollow the word sorry sounded at the background of everything that he had done to her. What could he say to soothe her; were there at all such powerful words in the world that could erase the painful memories of his evils over her? No; his remorse was entirely worthless and pointless; so he just stood up expressionlessly above her, piercing his dark eyes in her wet face.

"Don't…" the girl gasped between her silent cries, as she noticed that he had paused and was intensely looking at her. She directed her full of tears and nervousness eyes away from him, "don't stop."

She was still weakly holding herself to his shoulders, as after a brief moment of hesitation the minister complied silently with her plead. He thirsted deep in her, producing a new wave of ecstasy and tears in her eyes. He did it again and again, not separating his view from her face.

Esmeralda shifted aside not wishing to be seen like that anymore. She gasped loudly for air, overwhelmed with pleasure and sorrow. What was she doing? Her hands slid to the back of his neck, as she pulled his head closer to the one side of her own one, burying it into her hair again so that he was not to have sight of her expression anymore. The minister obeyed to that wish as well, continuing moving in her. The gypsy moaned and moaned in tears, blaming herself of how wrong was that experienced delight.

The hands of the gypsy, which had taken hold of his head and nape, slid further down, embracing and spreading her fingers over the skin of his broad back. Another long and yearning thrust made her cry out with tears of shameful pleasure.

"Harder," she whimpered barely heard between her sobs.

Frollo pushed deeper in her.

_A common gypsy; a dancer; an enchanter…_

Esmeralda moaned louder lost in the ecstatic moment as her tears increased.

… _a sorceress; a witch; a supernatural being…_

"Harder," the gypsy cried out with bitterness, pulling even thither herself to him and clutching her fingers into the flesh of his back when another thrust resulted in even a louder groan by her.

…_an angel of fire; a temptress…_

The gypsy was lost in his past words; his present actions; his cruelties and his testimonials of love, all of which had taken place in one day. She gasped between her tears and cries as the words "harder… harder," escaped again her lips.

…_seductive goddess of sin, or even a celestial being…_

Esmeralda sank beastly her nails into his pale skin on the back; overwhelmed with the strong sensations of wrong pleasure. He moaned out of hurt and delight, as by now the former rhythmic and slow motions had transformed into a hard ramming, each of which was shaking and exhausting completely all of their senses of satisfaction.

_It is you who are all those things, but for me you are just a torturer of my miserable soul; my punishment and perdition…_

"Harder," the girl repeated breathlessly with tears.

The gypsy was crying out with all her voice and strength, unable to distinguish whether it was because of pain and sorrow or delight and sinful joy. She was again and again treated with strong penetrations. Moans, groans, whimpers, and cries were not leaving her at peace, as with each of them she was clutching in the minister's flesh.

Frollo gasped loudly, overwhelmed with all the variety of sensations across his body. So tensed, so wrong, so pleasurable, so exciting, so gratifying, so painful, and yearning; he could alone erupt only by listening at her sounds of satisfaction, but he withheld as much as he could so to keep that delightful heaven longer

_I readily sacrificed my eternal life in Hell for you, but I don't want to be alone there anymore…_

Esmeralda clutched into him harder and more excruciatingly than ever before, as her final and most tense waves of pleasure overwhelmed her beyond any describable joy. She inhaled; she breathed; she gasped again and again unable to take any air at all in her full of satisfaction chest. A scream, cry; a wild and never before experienced highs of pleasure devoured all of her energy, releasing her senses and putting them at rest afterwards.

The gypsy's eyes were shedding tears more than ever before, as the minister's motions in her continued to send him to the final moments of joy. She loosened her violent hold of his back, sensing blood of the freshly made wounds to cover his flesh. Her hands were still on him, as she found herself unable to move them…

A loud and full of content and satisfaction moan left Frollo's lungs, as the hot thick liquid spurted out of him, releasing all the throbbing delight in his member. He gasped hungrily for air, still pressed closely above her. After a few moments he had gathered enough strength to lift his covered with sweat head and search for her look. He stared at it, involuntary tracing a tear which emerged from one of her eyes and rolled down the already overwhelmed with salt wetness face of the gypsy. He was still catching his bread, when for another profound moment their eyes were inseparably pierced in each other, as if wishing to share so many things, but not finding the words for any of them at all.

Overwhelmed again with the awkward shame, the girl became aware of her hands on his naked back and dropped them off him instantly with embarrassment. Her tears were still shedding, however silently and more repressed now.

Frollo stared at the gypsy for a long time, as little by little the last burning candlelight died, leaving them only with the light of the cooling embers of the fireplace. He sighed heavily, rolling off her. Lying on his back on the pillow next to her, he found in the dark the tossed aside cover and put it carelessly over him and started to more carefully to place it over her. As fast as the gypsy sensed the fabric over her naked body she preciously grabbed it and pulled it over her breasts, hugging the cloth as if it was something very dear to her, continuing her soundless tears.

The minister lied down, leaving some more than reasonable space between them. He stilled, blindly watching into the darkness. Frollo could still hear her weeping and sense her warm body next to him, but he did not dare to comfort or touch her. Could he even say something that would not sound just hollow and empty? He felt how cold shivers were running all over him. She was there- vulnerable, confused, crying, and probably thanks to him, she had lost any joy in life. He realized all that, but he wondered why then he was the one feeling so weak and pathetic… Was that the perdition of love?


	18. Love III

A/N: Sorry for not updating sooner, but let's hope that I will get on track from now on.

Anyway, enjoy:)

* * *

Love III:

_Love in Pain_

After a night of confusion and restless dreams, where all actions look like consecution of mistakes, one could rarely expect a better clarity in the morning…

Esmeralda was numbly lying at the age of the bed; she was with her back to the rest of it and her look was dazedly directed to the windows. The slowly rising sun outside; the warm light that was caressing her skin; the brightness; the noise; the awakening city- it was all happening right before her, but her senses were refusing to take notice of it. No, she was rather occupied with the feeling of the sheets over her naked flesh; her still aching for four days body; the red, swollen from tears face; her exhausted eyes; and the persisting dull pain in her head. What was she to do now?

Everything from the previous night seemed to the girl as a terrible nightmare; a distant, half-realized, and almost forgotten dream, which had been erased from her memory but had left her with the feeling of confusion, wretchedness, and dark bitterness. Oh, how helpless she was feeling of not having any control over herself; as if her soul and conscious had not been in her body when it had sunk in the mingling passions with the minister. Her mind had realized passively how the extremity of her sorrow, pain, and despair had seized the moment of the produced ecstasy; her misfortune had become for a short time a delirium of joy, but now in the morning her ashamed consciousness had to face the consequences of the mistakes of the flesh.

The gypsy was barely breathing- too scared that even the slightest move may awaken in any moment the man next to her. In fact, she did not know whether Frollo was still sleeping or not, but no matter of how much the uncertainty worried her the girl was even at greater fluster at the possibility of meeting his eyes. So she just stood up there, at the edge of the bed with blind look towards the window, repeating over and over again the events of the previous night; his words, her own ones; his touches, caressing, kisses… the satisfaction, the pleasure, and yet the bitter truth of her greatest mistake in her life- she had given her villain everything that he could get from her (unwillingly and willingly).

How could she had ever permitted herself to enjoy him; why the fate had chosen exactly her greatest tormentor to give her such an intense and blissful delight, which she had only scarcely known before? He had only been cynical, evil, vicious, sadistic, and brutal towards her; the gypsy's humiliation, pain, and misfortune had gone beyond any describable words just because of his debased instincts of lust; she hated him more than anything else in the world, but he as well had made clear more than once his disgust towards her people. Why then he had told her he loved her? What sense did it make to love something that he was trying to destroy? Why after all that had happened to Esmeralda she could not erase from her mind his stare; his threatening, scorching, and yet obsessively adoring her look?

The girl's heart sank within her as she felt a movement from behind her back. She was now more than sure that the minister was awakened, but that just made her even more paralyzed in her place than before. Her eyes were wide opened and not even daring to blink; her breath had seized, and her ears were intensely trying to hear signs of something before it had happened. The gypsy resembled a child that had been caught in a wrong doing and was naively hoping that her motionless position would make her invisible enough so to avoid the consequences of a punishment.

For some time the minister did nothing; Esmeralda was trying to figure out whether he was looking at her or whether he would in any second reach for her and made her face him similar to the countless times before, but he did none of it. After a couple of minutes the girl felt how the cover was removed from his side as he got off the bed. She listened harder; she involuntary imagined him standing there near the bed as she knew that he had nothing on him. Esmeralda heard his steps and tried to visualize what he was doing; he came to the corner of the bed towards the center, but then he turned to the direction of the windows and advanced more and more to the point where inevitably he would notice that she was not sleeping. The minister was practically going around the bed to her… there after one more step he could see her face.

Esmeralda closed her eyes in panic, limiting herself from any visual knowledge of what was happening around her. She sensed him approaching, her heartbeat increased, her eyelids felt trembling more and more and then he stopped. The sound of him picking up his clothes and dressing them up came to her hearing, as she just now realized that all his clothes were tossed on the floor near the side of the bed where she was lying. The girl struggled to put at ease her agitated emotions while trying to suppress as best as she could her burning of embarrassment face when sensing and visualizing him without clothes so close to her…

After a few moments, in which it seemed he had succeeded to fully dress himself, he paused and the gypsy was now more than sure that his overwhelming stare was laid upon her. Her eyes remained closed, as she hoped to keep avoiding as much as she could the moment when she had to face him again. Another brief pause followed in stillness before the gypsy heard a heavy sigh escape his lips and for her great relief she felt him retrieving away from her, as the sound of his steps was approaching more and more the exit. The noise of opening the door, walking away from the room, and just silently closing it behind were the last things that the girl heard him do…

_**LONG AFTER**_ the sound of his steps had faded away in the corridor, Esmeralda was still keeping her eyes closed and her position to the end of the bed unchanged. Only after it had passed nearly half an hour she dared to look up. She paused with her blind stare directed at the nothing before her before she gathered enough courage to move… even now when she had herself witnessed him leaving the room, a feeling that he was still lying behind her had overwhelmed the girl. The gypsy shifted her body to the rest of the bed; she was still lying at the edge of it, but she felt somewhat more comfortable now when she had moved herself and changed a little her position. She numbly watched the empty space, unconsciously imagining the minister there.

Suddenly she noticed red spots over the white sheet below the pillow next to her. Esmeralda mechanically stretched her hand and removed from the colored place the cover that was concealing more of it. She stared at the blood stains; as sudden as the surprise for them came to her as striking was the realization of what had caused them. Flashes of the previous night came clearer than ever before; the extremities of the joy and the sorrow, of the pleasure and the pain… The gypsy remembered clutching and sinking as hard as she could her nails into his flesh in tries to control all the bursting and controversial passions… She had hurt him without even realizing.

Esmeralda drew herself closer to the blood stains, looking at them somewhat enchanted. Unconsciously the girl started to wonder whether it was really hurting him, or how the wounds looked like over his broad, pale shoulders… Her fingers were running slowly along the adorned white sheet; she felt somewhat soothed and for the first time for the night calm and comfortable enough so to give into the so needed peaceful sleep…

_**THE KNOCKING**_ noise gradually increased or probably the gypsy was becoming more aware of it in her sleep, as eventually she opened her eyes and tried to recollect her thoughts. Esmeralda scarcely got the chance to comprehend what was happening around her when the door opened. Corinne, one of the maids, entered the room and by habit immediately directed her view down to the floor.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Esmeralda" the servant started indecisively, "I came earlier, but you were still asleep and I did not wish to awake you… It is passing noon and I was just worried that you have still not eaten anything."

The voice of Corinne sounded soft and considerate as ever, which made the gypsy filled with warm and relaxed feelings. She lightly yawned as she turned over on her back in the center of the bed and delicately stretched her limbs, still feeling very sleepy. She lifted herself a little bit, wishing to sit as she completely forgot that she was naked beneath the covers.

"What time is it…" she started drowsily, but was suddenly interrupted.

"Oh Esmeralda, but what had happened to you," the maid exclaimed, looking at the gypsy with great concern.

The girl on the bed was abruptly pulled out of her relaxed and sleepy state as she realized what had caused the sudden change of the servant's intonation and her worried expression. As she had lifted herself, the gypsy had let the cover slip from her body, fully revealing all the purple, blue and yellow bruises on her back, front, shoulders, and arms. The traumas were made before more than four days and had started to heal, however they were still looking pretty severe and horrific for the concerned maid, who had not seen them before. For the past days the meetings of the two girls were not lasting more than just the bringing of a tray of food and immediately retrieving from the room; so Esmeralda had succeeded to conceal with her clothes and hair the painful and shameful traces of the minister's wrath.

However, now the gypsy did not succeeded to avoid Corinne's sympathetic and piteous stare towards her. Embarrassed, Esmeralda quickened to put the cover over every exposed part of her body, gathering all of it around her and drawing it as high as to her face.

"It's nothing," the girl stuttered nervously.

"But, Esmeralda, you must be in a horrible pain…" the maid said with softer voice, as if trying to assure her of her sympathies.

"No, trust me… it doesn't hurt at all," the gypsy lied, feeling immediately the pain in her muscles, caused from her abrupt motions and efforts to cover herself. "It's nothing really… it's an old thing…"

"And that," the servant started with a new note of surprise and concern, shifting her look from the wrapped up girl to the white sheets with blood near her, which were clearly seen now when the gypsy had taken the entire cover over her, "that does not look at all as an _old thing_…"

Esmeralda made a quick glance at the adorned stains with blood beneath the pillow as her face flushed and she mumbled even more dully and embarrassed than before:

"Oh, no… no, that's not from me… I mean I am fine," the girl's eyes were restlessly wandering all over the sheets of the bed, as she suddenly stopped, took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "Please… I don't really want to talk about it…"

Those final words seemed to have had effect on calming down the servant, whose previous timidity returned and she muttered shyly on her turn:

"I am sorry, Esmeralda, it was not my right to pester you with such questions."

An awkward silence fell on both of the girls. The gypsy felt somewhat responsible for the created tension and hurried to change the subject:

"Is it really passing noon?"

"Yes, Esmeralda," the maid replied with respectful distance, as after another short pause added: "I thought that you must be really hungry by now, but I did not wish to awake or disturb you in any way…"

The seated in the bed girl did not reply anything; she was not looking at the other girl, but somewhere aside absent-mindedly. However, the mentioning of hunger reminded her of her hurting stomach; and indeed she felt the need to eat something. She looked up at the servant.

"I don't understand… Why didn't you just leave me a tray with food as usual; or why haven't you brought one now with you…"

"I would have done that, Esmeralda, but the minister ordered me to ask you if you wish to eat downstairs instead," the servant started to explain, as she dared to lift a little bit her ashamed head from the floor.

Unexplainably at first the gypsy felt her heart sinking within her. She had only eaten downstairs a few times and only when Frollo had time to have his meals in his home. The words of the maid meant nothing more to her than that he was still in the house and her having to face him would be sooner than she had anticipated. The thought made her shiver.

"But why would he be still in the house," Esmeralda heard herself thinking out loudly.

"Who," the servant asked confused. "Do you mean minister Frollo," she asked, but she needed no verbal answer to understand only by the gypsy's abrupt shift of her awkward eyes towards the maid that she meant exactly him. "But he is not here; before leaving he gave me the orders of letting you rest as much as you want and if you wish me to accompany you to eat downstairs and to go wherever you want in the house after that."

"I don't understand," the gypsy said after a pause. "Why he would let me be in more than one room…"

"I do not know, Esmeralda," Corrine replied not lesser surprised than the gypsy. "In the morning the minister looked sad and distracted, and left in a big hurry earlier than usual."

The gypsy did not say anything more; she seemed completely consumed by some thought, and was looking at one point down the floor.

"Esmeralda, if you do not wish to go downstairs I can always bring you a tray of food here," the servant suggested after a long pause, as the other girl was still not responding. Corinne was watching her confused; the servant knew more than well that her friend had been trying whatever she could to at least win the privilege of not being locked in one room; however the gypsy was looking now rather sad and somewhat disappointed. The maid wanted more than ever to ask her what was the reason for that; or for her bruises, the blood on the sheets, and her last-night moans of pleasure, which were resounding throughout the entire house- none of those things made any sense when gathered together, however the servant did not dare to ask her. Instead, when she did not receive any answer again she just repeated her question: "Esmeralda, do you wish me to get you something to eat here?"

"What," the other girl asked somewhat distracted, as she was assimilating the question. "Oh, no, thank you… I will follow you downstairs. Just… just please wait me outside for a few moments until I dress up," Esmeralda mumbled, not wishing to give Corinne new reasons to feel sorry for the gypsy's bruised body.

The maid bent her head down in embarrassment, as she produced something as an "Of course, take your time," and left the room.

_**THE BREAKFAST**_ went fast and before the gypsy had fully realized what she was doing she found herself back in Frollo's bedroom. The moment she had left the room, the girl felt some bitter and unpleasant feeling to fill up her chest. From the day she had been locked in that house she wanted more than anything else to leave it or at least to live the-one-room-prison, however now it was different. Oh, how lonely she had been feeling especially those last days when she had been forbidden any contact even with the servants, but now when she had finally achieved some relative freedom and the chance to talk with somebody else, Esmeralda missed her hours alone.

When she had come downstairs to eat, Corinne accompanied her throughout the whole time and tried not to intrude her, as she seemed entirely consumed in some sad thoughts. After she had finished her breakfast, the maid offered her some of the other rooms in the house, where she could rest or look around, but the gypsy was not feeling like any of it. She seemed like a child, who have been taken from its games and forced to converse and act socially before people, who did not understand her at all. The gypsy had practically the whole house under her command and wishes, but after everything that had happened the previous night, she did wish nothing more than to be let alone. She came up with some rambling excuse that she was feeling tired before the maid, as she withdrew back in her _prison-room_ and isolation.

Esmeralda really wanted to be alone, but now when she was she could think of nothing else but to run over and over again in her mind what had exactly happened the previous night. The time was elapsing slowly, very slowly; every second for the gypsy seemed like an hour and every minute like a lifetime. She was more than just confused; she was lost in a never-ending time; in a stilled moment, which seemed to wear a heavy shadow of panic and dreadful anticipation. Any minute the girl was anxiously looking at the door, jumping at every noise and fearing that the minister might go through it and the inevitable moment to face him would come. Indeed, she knew better that Frollo was always returning very late in the afternoon or even in the evening, but there was still that restless thought in her that he would come… And then what; what she was to say or do? The gypsy did not even consider herself capable enough to look him in the eyes; she felt nothing more than a shame and bitter regret for what she had done with him.

Some empty hours had past as the girl had been collapsed numbly on the floor and was blindly looking at one point. She snapped out of her sunken state as she could no longer stand all the scenarios and fears that were surging wildly in her mind. She stood up, desperately hoping to find something that could distract her from the nervous thoughts. No matter of how torturing was her own anxious company, she was still preferring to be alone, which meant that the bedroom was the only place where the rule to be followed by one of the servants did not applied. The gypsy looked around the room, as if just now realizing how long it had been since she had stayed here alone. Probably it had been nearly a month already… With bitterness the girl recalled at once all the times she had been locked in here and then the circumstances that had let to the moving in a new _prison-room_.

Esmeralda walked chaotically to the dusty shelves of books on the one wall. She distractedly ran her eyes all over the same, painfully familiar old books in Latin, which she had been observing so many times before. Her attention quickly got bored, as it searched randomly the room again. For a second her stare stopped on the large cross above the fireplace, but she hurried to look aside so to suppress as much as she could a new wave of memories from the previous night.

The gypsy directed to the desk of the minister, recalling a new episode of past events, however she did not tried to avoid the memory of these ones. It had not been past five days since Frollo, overwhelmed with rage and jealously, had so mercilessly thrown her over the desk, beaten; ravaged; and treated her like a cheap whore. That she did not want to forget; she mustn't. Whatever had happened the previous night was confusing and despite of anything else it must mean nothing before all of the other days of tyranny. That is what she must remember…

The gypsy walked closer to the desk, numbly consumed over the various randomly spilled documents and papers. Her eyes slid to the desk cabinets bellow; she tried to open the first one but it was locked. Esmeralda involuntary wondered what could be so worthy of hiding, and desperately grabbing the new feeling of curiosity, which seemed the only way to avoid the others of bitterness and sorrow, she started to search for a possible key around. For her great surprise she found one just randomly thrown underneath some documents on the desk, which fit perfectly in the locker. She opened the cabinet, finding just more books, papers, and opened letters. She tried to read any of that, but with no success. Those as well as the ones on the desk were in Latin; however there was something different in them… as if they were better taking care of, more preserved, more important, more secretive.

Esmeralda removed the letters and the documents above one of the books in the cabinet, as she put them on the edge of the desk. It was a small and thin black book, which had nothing more than text in it. She could not understand any of the written words, so she quickly threw it as well on the desk and moved on. The next book was relatively bigger, and as the girl ran through it some of the pages were half filled up with illustrations. She paused on one as she stared at a small picture of a man in rags, whose crippled body was nothing but skin and bone. Tortured by misery and starvation; completely broken and collapsed his dirty face was as if looking up to something. The man's eyes were pitiful, deplorable, wretched, and yet ominous. The drawing was making the girl's flesh creep, so she hurried to throw the book with the other stuff on the edge of the desk.

The gypsy took another book, which was larger. The pictures in it were relatively rarer than the previous one; however they were filling one or even two of the paper's sheets. The girl took more profound look in a big and detailed drawing somewhere in the middle of the book, placed in two of its pages. The dark ink, soaked in the yellow paper, was as if even giving more realistic sense of the ill-boding scene. It seemed as a square or a market place, which was surrounded by half-destroyed and destitute buildings. Chaos was reigning all over the place; Esmeralda's eyes slid to every portrayed men- some were on the roofs, others on the stone square and street; some looked like furious villagers, others were vicious guards; but all the cruelty of those people were centered on several women, who seemed spilled all over the place. The gypsy saw a young girl of not more than twelve, tied up to a random pillar of an almost completely destroyed building and surrounded by several man who were throwing their torches and other sticks toward her already inflamed, agonizing, and quivering body. Another woman, older than the first one as it seemed, was hopelessly trying to escape the stretched towards her numerous hands, which had clutched and stripped naked half of her body. Two spears were piercing her fair flesh between her naked breasts and in her stomach, as the merciless guards were penetrating them deeper into her bleeding body. A different wretched, was brutally crushed to the stones by three villagers, a guard and two children of not more than ten years old. She was resisting miserably, as few men were cutting her long locks of hair with blunt knives, leaving scalped and bloody spots on her skull, as other youths were kicking, beating, and stoning her. A fourth woman, was on a balcony of a big, tall, and decayed house, where she was desperately trying to grasp at something while other village females of various ages were crowding the veranda, wildly obsessed to push her over the rotten platform and to witness her death. A fifth girl was pressed to a wall with a bandage on her eyes with numerous sharp and pointy objects around her ready to tear her flesh; another one was completely nude, held by two big and rough villagers while a third man was skinning her alive; another was being viciously drowned in an animal trough with water; another one was already a corpse; next hanged; all beaten, bleeding, agonizing- the cruelties and miseries were all over that dreadful picture.

Esmeralda was beyond any disgust and shock; she wished she could turn away from that brutal scene, but she did not. She was staring at it numbly, as she noticed a small caption bellow: "Malefica-"and she did not need to know Latin to understand that it meant "witch" (evil-doer). Suddenly she tossed the book wide opened on the desk, as she shift it so the black covers to be all that was seen from it.

The gypsy continued the search through the papers and the black volumes of Latin scripts, not knowing herself what she was looking, as she was carelessly removing and throwing all the content of the cabinet to the other already checked items. As she was taking out a long document with many pages, her hands trembled and her heart sank within her seeing a pink ribbon on the bottom of the almost emptied by now cabinet. She carelessly dropped the pages on the floor, as she reached to the cloth, recognizing more than well the band, which she had used to tie her hair before more than two months.

Her trembling fingers had barely touched the ribbon, rushing so much dear and yet sad memories in her, as the door suddenly opened. Esmeralda turned in panic, bumping into the desk behind her and knocking down to the floor all the books and papers from the cabinet, which had been gathered on the edge of the table. Her hand had grabbed firmly the pink ribbon; her breath had stopped, and her heartbeat was running wild; was it him?

Corrine emerged from the door, hearing the falling of the books and looking in stupefaction the scared girl and all the mess of documents and papers around her.

"Excuse me, Esmeralda," the maid started, wishing to calm her from her horror-struck state, "I should have knocked first… I did not wish to startle you."

The gypsy felt somewhat relaxed seeing the servant instead of the minister, but her heartbeat was still raising wild. She looked down to the spilled items, to Corrine, and then through the window to the still bright sky. It had not started to get dark yet, but the girl was still feeling as her time was running very fast. She looked worriedly again to the maid, and then to the books in her feet.

"Please help me clean this," Esmeralda said in one breath as she dropped on her knees and started to collect in complete disorder and mess the papers.

"But of course, Esmeralda," the servant said as she went to the other girl, and she too dropped on her knees. She was collecting in silence, far more précised and less panicky than the gypsy, as she was glancing once and a while at her nervous friend who was hurriedly gathering and worriedly looking to the opened door. "Relax, Esmeralda, we will get them in time," Corrine said after a while, trying to comfort the anxious girl.

"I just can't take it anymore," the gypsy suddenly cried out, dropping one of the books back on the floor, as her eyes felt with tears. "I can't stand being locked in here anymore! And it doesn't matter whether my prison is one room or ten; it is still a prison," Esmeralda continued, as she saw the confused look of the maid.

"Esmeralda, please, calm down," Corrine started gently, "You do not have to be imprisoned; you can go wherever you want in the house… I will be with you and I shall keep you company and you can still feel free…"

"How can I ever be free, when I know that I am trapped in here with him," the gypsy objected sobbingly. "No matter where I go in the house, he can find me and then… and then… Oh, Corrine how could I ever face him after yesterday…. after what he said…. after what…. after what I did… after what…"

"After what, Esmeralda," a low and rather cold voice asked, as it startled both of the girls, who simultaneously turned to the opened door.

"Ah… Excuse me, minister Frollo, I did not notice when you had…," the servant's words rushed out quickly after an awkward moment of stillness, as if she was suddenly pulled out of a dazed state and was hurrying to make up for the lack of courtesy she had had because of her shock. While speaking up that she tried as fast as she could to stand up from the floor.

"You are excused," the minister impatiently said, not letting her finish. "Begone now," he ordered, as his eyes were not separating from the other, still on the floor, girl.

After her quick glance at him, the gypsy did not even dare to look him in the eyes before she had bent her head and view straight down to the floor. Frollo advanced a few steps in the room, as he freed the exit, letting the servant obediently leave the room.

"Close the door behind you," the judge ordered dryly to Corrine, still not separating his view from Esmeralda.

The door closed, and he and the gypsy remained alone in his bedroom. For a moment they were both silent, motionless, and seeming entirely consumed in their sights (his- her, and hers- an aimless spot on the floor). The minister's eyes slowly wandered all over the girl- her freely falling and concealing her face locks of dark hair, her hunched shoulders, nervously tight fists, crouching and kneeling posture, and all the mess of papers and books around her. Frollo's attention had now shifted to the spilled documents; to his desk; to the wide opened and emptied cabinet of it; to the small key on its locker; and then again to the frightened and nervous figure on the floor, who was stubbornly refusing to lift her bent head.

"Were the books on the shelves not enough for you," the minister drawled with a sarcastic tone. "Or did the ones on the floor have for you more special interest?"

"They just felt down," the gypsy mumbled awkwardly after a pause.

"Did they fell down from their place in the locked desk cabinet?"

The girl did not answer anything. She was holding tightly in one of her hands her pink ribbon, which she had found as well in the cabinet, covering it with her fist and praying that he would not notice its missing. Another pause followed. Frollo's attention was randomly passing at times to her at times to the spilled papers on the floor. He walked a few more steps towards her, as he stopped just before one of the unfolded books. The nervous stare of the gypsy slid along the floor, barely glancing at him, and comprehending with some kind of odd horror that the book in his feet was the big one that she had went through before and was now opened at the exact same page with the picture of the furious villagers, guards and the brutally torn and killed _witch_-women. She trembled, realizing that he had spent a few moments staring at the book when suddenly he reached down to it, closed it, took it with one hand, and as he stood up again he tossed it on his desk.

"Get up," the minister ordered to the girl with a cold voice, which however seemed to have lost some amount of confidence. She obeyed, but her eyes were still fixed on the floor. "Follow me," Frollo said after a moment, as he proceeded to the door, opened it, exited the room, traced her with his eyes while she was going out, and closed the door back.

In the same manner of leading and numb following, they passed the corridor, went down the stairs, outside of the house, and in the judge's carriage, where she placed herself to the most distant corner from the door and he sat on the opposite row of seats, leaving her more than enough privacy space and yet being able to observe her constantly. The carriage got under way.

_**THEY HAD**_ been traveling from some time now and with every passed moment the gypsy was getting more and more anxious and scared about that trip. She did not know what was to happen; she did not know what he was thinking or even why he had took her out. Had she done something wrong; was she to be punished; where at all they were going? Esmeralda had succeeded to put her ribbon, which she had found in the locked cabinet in one of her sleeves, and now she was silently and motionlessly seating in the corner with her head down.

The suspense was getting bigger and bigger and she even became to fear for her life. For the period she had spent as the minister's captive he had let her be outside only when he had took her to terminate her pregnancy and when he had bargain the meeting with her friend Quasimodo for her submissiveness. But now it was different- the previous night he had opened to her, he had told her things he had probably never before even admitted to himself and who knew what a terrible consequences she might suffer for being his listener.

"Where are we going," Esmeralda finally dared to ask, still with her eyes concentrated somewhere down her hands and knees.

The minister looked at her surprised as if he had not at all expected her to speak up. He spent a few moments peacefully examining her and not really hurrying to answer her question.

"Relax," he drawled after a pause in his low voice, "you don't have to worry."

"Worry," the girl repeated with irritation as she lifted her head and pierced at him with spiteful look. "After all the things you have put me through those months how I am supposed to trust you and not to _worry_? Who knows what a sick thing you are leading me to right in this moment?" Frollo gritted his teeth, but did not reply anything; for some reason he was restraining himself and trying to put up with her words. However, the gypsy continued: "Where are we going and what a torture I have to suffer now? You owe to answer me at least this! Come on, tell me what a terrible thing you are going to cause me this time?"

"You did not seem to mind what I _caused_ you yesterday," the minister sharply interrupted her, piercing his eyes in hers provokingly.

Esmeralda silenced, blushed, and dropped her look down with an obvious embarrassment.

"I have agreed to give you a night of shared pleasure," the gypsy started with the best cool and indifferent voice she had succeeded to produce. "I was just doing my part of the deal and I guess I was pretending well en…"

"Don't," Frollo hissed out of rage, as before the gypsy had finished her sentence or realize what was happening he had rushed and jumped on her; pressed her tightly to the seat, clutched her cheeks into his bony fingers, and closed his face to hers. "Don't even dare to say that. We both know that it was not the pretending that made you offer yourself to me yesterday and flutter in excitement whenever I touched you!"

"Stop it, you are hurting me!"

The minister just now realized his tight grip on her; he stared for a moment her squeezed eyes, which expressed pain and disgust at the same time, and then significantly loosened his grip. After another second of a motionless gaze he withdrew from her, getting back on his seat afar from her. The gypsy pressed herself even closer to the one corner of the carriage and looked blindly down her arms with wetted glare. She could not look or talk to him again; she was not really hurt by his clutching arms, but his words were what had made her feel even more ashamed or uncomfortable.

The minutes were going by one after another; the carriage was still moving on and from some time now in it there had been created an oppressive tension that kept both of its passengers silent. Now nor the minister nor the girl were looking at one another; they were both silent and completely wrapped in thoughts, which seemed to cause them even more discomfort. Frollo glanced at the gypsy's face and her glittering with tears eyes. Why her misery was all that he was observing in her; why she was always crying in his presence? His eyes shifted restlessly all over her; he seemed he was hesitating over something. Well, now that did not matter, none of it would matter after a few more minutes- he would not have to see her tears again; he would not have to see her…

The tension was getting bigger and bigger as if an invisible wall was separating them more and more apart and there was nothing to be done about it.

"Damn it," the minister snapped in frustration, letting down his guard of all those tormenting questions and restrains.

He could not take it anymore; in a second he rushed again towards her, but this time he rather gently took her head into his hands and fervently leaned towards her lips. Without even having the chance to object Esmeralda felt him pressing hard to her and thrusting deeply his moistened tongue between her teeth. A thrilling cold shiver ran through her spine, giving her the sensation of an awkward excitement. Her mouth was loosened, unable to object him, and yet she wished she could.

His fingers ran through her hair as he still kept supporting her head close to his; his tongue went deeper- fervent, wanting, needing, and hungrier for her. The gypsy was sensing him all to her throat- his firm pressure over her body; his touches; his power over her; his voluptuous kiss… She was not responding back; how could she permit herself to repeat the awkward need for him? Her mouth was opened, her alerted body was gradually giving in; he was having her all and she was sinking into that thrilling both with excitement and anguish feeling, barely controlling herself not to return his kiss. She almost did when the carriage suddenly stopped and he pulled out from her completely breathless.

Frollo gazed at her big green eyes, as if for a second refusing to accept that they had stopped moving and it was time for them to leave the carriage. He leaned again towards her imprinting very softly a kiss on her moistened lips, and then he abruptly turned, pushed the door and got out as he left the exit wide opened for the gypsy.

Esmeralda hesitated for a moment, but then slowly followed the minister and left the carriage. Her heart trembled in a rush of an outstanding shock; she knew where they were… she knew the Court of Miracles. In that moment her emotions crashed in a cluster of disbelief, joy, anguish, bewilderment, and doubt. Was what was before her eyes even real; had it not been completely destroyed; was it not all just a dream?

Completely enchanted the gypsy made several more steps toward the stone entrance of the place, as she completely forgot about the minister, the carriage, and everything that had happened until now. That was behind her and it seemed it had become nothing more than a past.

As the first wave of shock had passed; the girl became more aware of her surroundings. The entrance of the Court of Miracles was relatively far from her and gradually she noticed that there were a lot of people between her and it. Esmeralda and the judge were rather distant from everybody else, but the girl still could recognize pretty well the numerous guards that were surrounding the place and the several gypsies moving in and out of the underground habitation. The tombstone that was serving both as an entry and for concealing the place was almost entirely ruined down, making the way in wider and more opened. The gypsy was disbelievingly trying to assimilate the whole picture.

"It proved to be harder to wipe them out of the city than I anticipated," Frollo drawled in some cold disappointment. The gypsy snapped out of her daze, but still remained motionless with her back to him. He continued after a pause with a bitter tone: "They are like a weed, which no matter of your efforts it always thrives from underneath and corrupts all around it; like vermin, which no poison is strong enough to prevent them to creep back into your house."

Esmeralda turned to the minister and pierced her big green eyes straight at him. The judge silenced for a moment; there was something so accusing and yet naively regretful at her stare that made him unable to bare it anymore. Frollo shifted his look randomly behind her to the stone entrance, where he noticed that more gypsies had gathered and were glancing at them with curiosity. He did not care much for them, he knew that they would not dare to approach or disturb them, but still a feeling that his time was slipping away suddenly overwhelmed him. He looked back at the gypsy.

"I truly believed that the discovery of this place would put an end of their heathen existence in Paris, but alas I proved to be wrong," the minister continued with the same low and freezing voice. "In the day I found your nest some gypsies succeeded to escape in the tunnels, or some were hiding elsewhere in the city. Nevertheless, I couldn't even deal properly and set an example with the captured gypsies just because of you," Frollo's eyes were piercing at hers so intensely that it made the girl drop uncomfortably her look down. "Ever since they have been outcast Paris became a place of constant riots and battles with the sneaking back in gypsies; the dungeons filled up with beggars and vagrants; the gallows and pillories were always busy; and yet the streets were hording with more and more of the homeless vermin than ever before. Yesterday it was reported to me that many of the outcasts and streetwalkers were taking refuge in an abandoned house nearby. I could have easily burned it down and give all of those sinners to the judgment of Our Lord. But I did not- that was not what our deal was… Instead I decided that their former Court of Miracles might prove to be more useful than I have previously believed.

"One of the captives in the founded refuge yesterday claimed to be their king; I told him that they may return back in their formal habitation here, however not without a constant guard and surveillance of the place. I allowed to the banished gypsies to return back in the city and I dismissed most of the prisoners, whose only offense to the law was their homeless wandering and living on the streets. They are now free to return to the Court of Miracles; but they are all warned that severe consequences will follow if they trespass the law," Frollo paused for a second, as their stares met again. The girl was listening to him wordlessly, as her expression was numb and motionless. After locking their glances for a short time she immediately looked away from him, concentrating on a point on the ground. The minister renewed in a cold and informative voice: "The gypsies are not allowed to be seen on the streets after midnight, neither to make any kind of street performances (dancing, singing, playing music or any others) in the main precincts of Paris. It is also absolutely forbidden to beg anywhere in the walls of the city or to make tricks, tell fortunes, or to perform any other heathen rituals. Violating those ordinances will surely lead to imprisoning, torturing, and exposing to the public punishment by chaining on the pillory or even death…"

Frollo sighed deeply, oppressed by some kind of dwelling emotions, and then started in a low voice, which however sounded somewhat more considerate:

"I want you to know all of this because I am… because you are free now, too."

Esmeralda's green eyes instantly pierced in his disbelievingly. Her expression remained motionless, and yet somehow her face expressed bewilderment, suspicion, uncomprehending, and shock.

A very intense, wordless, and long pause followed, disturbed only by background noises. The minister first broke the silence:

"From the moment I saw you your image have been preying on my mind; and ever since a desire for you have been burning in me and have been deadening all my other senses. I tried not to think of the damnation that my soul was to suffer for sinning with you; I tried to ignore the guilt and the feelings I have for you; and I tried to disregard your tears and misery, but those tormentors of the consciousness were not leaving me even for a second… What happened between us yesterday made me realize that the only way that you could be happy and I could find at least some peace is to set you free... I was told once that love is when you are not ready to let someone go, but that is not true…

Esmeralda, I meant what I said yesterday… I regret my feelings, but I cannot repress them anymore- I love you and I wish to give you happiness even if that means to let you go."

The gypsy was remaining motionless; her eyes were sparkling, but she neither cried nor made any other form of emotional reaction to his words. The minister broke again the created silence:

"I just wish to know one thing before it… Esmeralda, what made you ask me if I love you in the first place?"

The gypsy looked down in her feet again.

"I don't know," she lied, mumbling awkwardly.

The minister smiled bitterly. He felt a strong urge to embrace her and to thrust delightfully his tongue into her mouth in an eternal bliss. His eyes shifted from her randomly to the placed around the stone entrance guards and the several gypsies who were throwing curious glances at them. One of those gypsies was more emerged in front than the others, as if wishing to advance to Esmeralda and the judge but not daring, and he seemed to have a worried and concerned look over his face. The minister cursory recognized in him Clopin, the gypsies' king.

Frollo looked again to the girl, whose eyes were still pointing down.

"Goodbye, Esmeralda," he said with rather cold and indifferent voice, as he turned and advanced to his carriage.

Esmeralda lifted her look just to watch numbly his leave from her. She honestly did not know what to say or how to react to any of these. She knew that she should feel happy about that, but after everything that she had been through she did not dare to permit herself any positive emotions. And yet there was something else… as if she was not sure at all if that was supposed to be a joyous moment.

"Oh, Esmeralda, you can't believe how happy I am to see you!"

The girl startled as she turned and saw Clopin reproaching her. He hugged her dearly and continued talking what a miracle it was to see her again.

"None of us knew what exactly had become of you, Esmeralda; everything happened so fast that day… I feared for the worst… Oh, but that did not matter anymore, you are here and you are alright. Are you, alright?"

"Yeah," she mumbled consumed in something entirely different.

The girl responded to his hug barely, as not long after she had turned to him she shifted her head again to the previous direction. The carriage of the minister was on his way and soon it was going to be out of their sight.

"Oh, what are you wearing," Clopin continued half comical, half serious. "Wait," he suddenly said in a concerned voice, as he had to walk to her in order to catch up with her. Esmeralda had dazedly made a few steps on the dusty road on which the judge's carriage was moving. She was still staring at it and Clopin had to circle her so to find himself in front of the motionless gypsy; however it was not the dress he was looking at now. "You are all bruised, Esmeralda! What had happened?"

"I am fine."

"No, you are not! What had that animal done to you! That bastard, I will make sure he'll pay, you'll see…"

"I am fine, really, it doesn't matter anymore," the girl said still trying to see in the almost dark road the carriage.

"How it doesn't matter? Of course it does! That son of a bitch, if only…"

"Stop it, Clopin; it doesn't matter, alright," Esmeralda cried out in irritation, not knowing herself why. "Just let it go, leave him alone…"

They both silenced for a moment. The gypsies' king was looking at her in confusion and suspicion. He looked at her face, and then traced with eyes to where her gaze still was. He turned to her in distrust.

"Do you love him," he asked, unbelieving himself of what he was saying. The girl remained the same silent, motionless, and thoughtful statue. "Do you, Esmeralda?"

"How could you love a man, who had hurt you so many times; who had devastated, humiliated, tortured, and destroyed you completely?"

"You didn't answer my question," Clopin said after a silent pause.

The carriage disappeared from her view. Esmeralda looked with wetted eyes towards her friend and said in bitter sorrow:

"No, I guess I didn't."


	19. Sloth

Sloth:

_Wrong place, Wrong time_

_**FROLLO**_ was silent throughout the entire way back. He seemed completely sunken into his thoughts. In his mind he was rerunning over and over again all the recent events. Everything seemed to have happened so fast, and he was not planning any of these. It had all started from the previous morning when she had asked him whether he loves her- a question that was still coming to him like a shock. Why she had to ask that he did not know, but those simple words had suddenly made him doubt in everything he had been doing. He did love her and he had never wanted to let her go, but just because he had completely realized how much he cared about the gypsy he had done things he had never before even considered acceptable. He could have easily found a solution with the rest of her people by just burning them up, but he did not want to disappoint her. So there he was- because of his love he was forced to do nothing and just to let all of his work for the past twenty years to be completely destroyed and on its place the weed to thrive again.

The carriage stopped- he had finally arrived back home. The minister got out and as he barked to the soldiers some orders not to be disturbed he entered the house and climbed up the stairs. In the same manner, consumed in some dismal thoughts, he opened the door of his bedroom. Nobody had entered in it after his departure a few hours earlier; the spilled on the floor near the desk books and papers were still there disordered and chaotic. Mechanically he went to them, kneeled, and carelessly gathered them one after another in a pile. Then, he stood up, grabbed all of them and heavily dumped them on his desk, on the top of everything else there. Frollo paused as suddenly he was again reminded of her- why had she chosen to remain in the bedroom and to go through his stuff instead of just spending her free hours away of the one place she apparently hated the most. Over the past couple of months she was miserable with him, the minister was more than certain of that, but then why she had offered herself compliantly to him the previous night? Why she had trembled out of pleasure before him; why she had enjoyed his touches; had nervously undressed him and had wanted him almost as much as his body craved for her every day? Had the minister thought otherwise he would have never let her go; he would have tried to be as loving and devoted to her as he possibly could; he would have given everything he had just to make her happy with him and he would have had spent every day telling her how sorry he was for everything he had done to her, miserably begging for her forgiveness. But nothing would make any difference; Frollo knew better. Even if she had meant her actions towards him the previous day she had instantly afterwards regretted for them. Her tears, which had come immediately after her moans of satisfaction, had made him realize that he would have never given her a true happiness without reminding her of what evil he had done to her. He had to let her go and now she would never again be in his bedroom, searching and disordering the things in it…

Suddenly Frollo was reminded of something and his dazed attention was now fixed to the opened cabinet of his desk, which the gypsy had emptied. He went to it and hastily rummage though the several left papers in it. Nothing… When Esmeralda was captured before two months and put in a dungeon along with the rest of the imprisoned gypsies she was taken all of her clothes and given a white robe to wear for her execution. The night of her arrest the minister had convinced himself that he would be content no matter whether he would see her burn the next day or surrendering to give herself to him, but nevertheless he felt the need to possess something of her. He had taken a pink ribbon from her confiscated clothes and throughout the entire night he had thought of the gypsy restlessly clutching into his hands the taken decoration. _What if she does not surrender to him; could he forget her; could he watch her burn; would that redeem him from her spell_- were all questions, which had passed through his mind until he had finally refused to torture himself with her anymore before the moment of her execution and had carefully hidden her former possession into a cabinet of his desk under a pile of books and after that had locked the cabinet. The minister had never before thought again of that event just because he had the gypsy herself for the past couple of months. But now she was gone and he needed to behold something of hers…

There was nothing in the cabinet; could she have found it? Frustrated he noisily pushed the cabinet to close and exhausted directed to his bed. He sat on it and blindly stared thought the window as he was sinking in some thought, which he himself did not realized clearly. _She was gone_… A knock on the door pulled him out of his daze.

"I ordered not to be disturbed," the minister barked angrily.

"I am sorry, sir," an indecisive voice of a soldier was heard from the other side of the door, "but I thought that you might wish to know about the great number of gypsies we have captured."

Frollo sighed irritated- he did not at all care about that now. He walked to the door and opened it, looking superiorly at the other man.

"For what reason now," he asked rather annoyed.

"It was concerning one of the orders you reestablished today, sir; many of the gypsies were seen on the streets after midnight," the soldier reported as briefly as he could.

Frollo just now realized that it was past midnight…

"Idiot," he scolded, "how do you expect them to abide an order they are not aware of?"

"I… don't know, sir…" the men stuttered confused of the attitude of his superior.

"Then go and state them the law, threaten them with punishment before you let them go and don't fill unnecessarily the dungeons, coming here to lose my time!"

"As you order, sir…" the soldier produced embarrassed and hurried to retrieve.

Frollo sighed heavily as he closed the door; he had changed- he knew it, the soldier had noticed it and now the city would understand it as well. The minister had changed; he was less severe in fulfilling his duties and all that was because of a gypsy…

_**ESMERALDA **_moved in her sleep uneasily feeling the discomfort of the hard bed; suddenly she opened her eyes in alarm without really realizing the reason of it. It took her a few moments of the second to remember where she was and to recognize the colorful rags serving as walls of her room. She shifted her body, removing the blanket and sitting on the low-to-the-floor bed. For several minutes she remained motionless, as if she was not ready yet to be drawn out of her thoughts and to start her day.

"Esmeralda," an asking voice was heard from beyond the wall-cloths.

"Yes," she returned distracted. The curtains were opened.

"Oh good, you're awake," Clopin started with a friendly voice, "I was wondering when that will happen."

"What's the time," the gypsy-girl inquired, not at all in a mood to talk with anybody right now.

"It's nearly noon," the king replied her with the same kind attitude. He paused for a second as his eyes studied her with concern then he continued with a little more indecisive tone, trying to sound casual: "Hey, listen, some of the others will go to perform on a street not far from here, it's not a big one, but I've heard people are not too big of misers there… You can join them if you want to..."

"I don't," Esmeralda said dryly as she rubbed her sleepy eyes with her hand. She did not say anything more, and after a few moments the other gypsy was forced to carry on the conversation:

"Well, you don't have to dance, you know… I mean don't worry about money now, just I thought that you might want to go out…"

"Not really," the girl interrupted, "thanks for looking after me, Clopin, but I'm fine and I don't really need anything. I still have some money left from the dress I sold and anyway I don't need much."

"Yes, Esmeralda, but it's been a month since you come back and you haven't yet left the Court of Miracles even for one…"

"I like it here," the gypsy objected as she got up from the bed; on her head carelessly put her pink ribbon to remove the falling on her face locks of hair and wearing a simple, old gypsy dress, which resembled her previous one. She tried to find something in the room to occupy herself with so she could have a reason to be left alone.

"Come on, Esmeralda, we both know that's not the reason why you have locked yourself in here…," Clopin started as he was careful with his words, trying to sound as much sympathetic as he could. "Look, I'm really sorry for everything that has happened to you, but you have to find strength to move on."

"I am finding…"

"Then why don't you go out," the king interrupted quickly her objections.

"Well, I'm just…" the gypsy was now completely consumed in folding some randomly piled clothes on the floor, as she was trying to figure out an excuse that would end up that conversation.

"You're just scared not to run over him while you're outside, aren't you?"

Esmeralda stopped folding as she dropped a wrinkled and bad folded cloth from her hands. Her heart trembled just at the thought of him, but she quickly turned and was ready for objection when the other gypsy said:

"Look, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have forced you; I could only imagine how hurt you may feel after everything that bastard did to you… I just want you to feel as happy as before all of these…"

"Yeah, I want too…" the girl sighed with sorrow. They both paused as if giving each other time to grieve for the past tranquility they had. Clopin spoke up first:

"Almost to forget… I think I have something that might make you feel better," the gypsy said as he got out of the tent-room just to enter again in it after a few seconds later, as he held the exit curtain open. "I believe you still can recognize your old friend…"

"Djali," the girl said, brightening her face a little bit as she kneeled and hugged the white goat, who had just entered and was happily bleating in the arms of her mistress.

"Some of the gypsies found her yesterday in the tunnels," Clopin stated, pleased to see some positive change in Esmeralda's mood. "We don't know really what she has been doing these past months, but she seems really ok, don't you think so?"

"Yes, she's perfectly fine," the girl agreed distracted as she was scratching gently her pet behind the ears.

"But you know, you can't keep her forever under the ground," the king added, as he was hoping to reach his old point in another way. The girl's smile slowly fainted, as she looked at some random point.

"I know," she automatically said. After a deep sigh she got up. "You're right, I should go out…" and headed to leave.

"But now, and alone?"

"Well, you're the one who insisted so much. Besides I'm not alone, I have my Djali with me," Esmeralda had almost reached the exit as she was stopped again:

"Do you know where are you going to go?"

"Yes, to the cathedral; there's another friend who I haven't seen for a while…"

"Wait, are you sure that's a wise thing to do? I mean it's pretty crowded there and there are always a lot of guards and…"

"I'll be ok," the girl said and left as quickly as she had changed her mind, leaving the other gypsy bemused behind her.

_**QUASIMODO**_ was looking down the square; it had just passed noon and the sun was shining bright high above the cathedral. It was calm down and everybody seemed to be busy with their daily problems. The hunchback felt somewhat in peace the more he was occupying himself with the outside picture and forgetting about his own solitude. Suddenly he heard steps and turned just in time to see the opening door on the first floor.

"Quasimodo," a soft feminine voice called his name as he hurried to get down the ladder and meet his friend.

"Esmeralda," the hunchback exclaimed as he ran like a child to her and hug her dearly. "Oh, I thought I would never hear from you again. I'm so happy you're alright."

"I'm happy to see you, too," the girl returned gently as they parted just as the goat entered the room and bleated cheerfully to the familiar face. The hunchback patted her as he invited both of them to come inside the tour.

"How did you succeeded to get her back, Esmeralda," the hunchback asked still very cheerful to the newcomers as he referred to the goat.

"Well," the gypsy started, not really knowing from where to start, "she was wandering in the Court of Miracles, I guess we are lucky to find each other again."

"In the Court of Miracles," the hunchback asked confused, "but there's nothing left of it…"

Esmeralda looked guilty at her friend- she should have come earlier.

"There is… I mean all of it is there and most of my people are living in it. True- it is not secret anymore and there's no guarantee that soldiers won't come whenever they feel like it, but at least we have a home… or something like this. Haven't you heard about it," the girl asked dully as she already knew the answer of the question.

"I haven't heard anything new since the last time you have visited me…," Quasimodo stated sadly as he made his friend feel guilty again. "I can't really leave the tower and Frollo haven't come to visit me for a while." The mentioning of the minister's name made the gypsy feel uneasy, which did not go unnoticed by the hunchback. "Esmeralda, did you escaped him," he couldn't help, but ask the question, which he was thinking the moment he saw the gypsy in such a different situation than a month ago.

"Huh," she asked distracted as she had been sunken in the view outside, "No… I mean he let me go," the gypsy replied dryly, leaving Quasimodo no choice, but to carry on the conversation.

"He let you go? So he couldn't be so evil after all… could he?"

"I… I don't know…" the gypsy mumbled, not really wishing to talk about it. How could she even start to explain all the villainy of his master to the naïve boy? "Quasimodo, when… when did you see him for the last time," she asked, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to learn anything about the minister after he had let her go a month ago.

"Well, actually I haven't since the time when he brought you to see me…" the hunchback replied. "In fact I haven't heard anything about him neither from the archdeacon nor from what I could hear from the square."

"Oh," the girl blankly said, as they both paused. They did not know what to say anymore; they were both too overwhelmed and too full of questions, which however they did not dare to ask each other.

"Hey, where did Djali go," Quasimodo asked, caught in the notice of her absence as a way to continue the conversation.

Esmeralda snapped out from her thoughts as she looked around and could not see anywhere her beloved pet.

"Djali," she called, as she wondered the room with her eyes, "Djali, where are you?"

Both she and the hunchback saw at the same time the open door of the exit and after glancing to each other a quick look, the girl was ready to leave the tower and search for her goat in the cathedral when suddenly they heard a loud bleating, coming from the square outside. They automatically went to the window and looked down, their eyes scanning the down area.

Djali was found near a bakery store, drawn there by the scent of food, but now she was bleating in confusion surrounded by the baker and two guards.

"I'm telling you, that's a devil goat," the civilian was shouting loud to the soldiers and the gathered crowd of curious looks. "It came to me and started flipping and writing the word bread on the ground. A normal animal won't do such stuff; it's a devil."

The guards seemed rather amused, as one of them took his knife and was ready to get rid of the puzzled devil, which would have done a rather generous meal for the two men.

"I have to go," Esmeralda said in alarm as she saw the shining of the knife.

She rushed to the door, as Quasimodo's voice stopped her.

"Wait, Esmeralda, it is dangerous…"

"Don't worry; they wouldn't dare to harm me…" the girl returned hastily as she left the room.

_**PHOEBUS**_ got off his hoarse, patting the animal, as his attention was drawn to several soldiers, who were conversing with a middle-height, broad-shouldered man dressed in rich clothes. The captain advanced, hearing the following conversation:

"Yes, sir, we keep a good eye on them," a soldier said addressing the stranger.

"Good, good," the man drawled with a snaky voice, as he continued lethargically, "the gypsies need always to be well restricted. Indeed, it is true that those palm-readers understand nothing but the language of the whip; the moment the lash stops ripping their filthy flesh I might as well assure you that they will turn and bite the hand, which have shown them mercy."

"You're speaking of them as if they are some kind of wild animals," Phoebus reproached with disgust the stranger.

The man turned, as a wrinkled, malicious expression with dog features faced the captain, who was with his blue cloak and appeared nothing more than a civilian in the eyes of the nobleman.

"But are they not precisely that," he hissed, provoking Phoebus with his beady eyes.

The soft brown eyes of the soldier narrowed, as he responded in cold voice:

"No, they are people and ought to be treated as such."

The stranger studied in details his foe before his look stopped again at the other's eyes.

"And who the gypsies may have the owner to stand up as their defender," the rich man asked with a mocking smirk.

"Please excuse my captain of the guards if the virtues of his humanity serve right now not in his best interest," a cold and superior voice spoke up, as it prevented the soldier to talk back to the stranger. Phoebus turned just in time to see Frollo approaching them.

"Minister Frollo, such a pleasant surprise to see you," the still-unknown to the soldier man greeted the newcomer with hallow courtesy then addressed again the other man with the same mocking superiority: "Please do correct me if I am mistaken, but if you are the captain of the guard you certainly should be the same lieutenant Phoebus de _Chateaupers for whom I have heard so much generous praising at the battlefield not too long ago; and who has recently taken for a wife the gentle _Miss _Fleur_**-**_de_**-**_Lys de_ Gondelaurier, a daughter of undoubtedly another honorable man, peace to his ashes. However, I do not seem to recall anywhere in my knowledge of you the rather odd for your service preference to natural criminals."

"Well, you seemed quite well informed about me, unfortunately I can't say the same about you," Phoebus said with sarcastic politeness, emphasizing on the fact that he does not know who the other man was.

"Forgive the impudence of my captain, but I am afraid social skills are not one of his best qualities," Frollo hurried to interrupt the exchange of attacks with a commanding tone, which more than clearly suggested to the soldier to shut up, then he continued with his cold courteous voice: "However, I can assure you in his excellent services to the law despite of his arrogant attitude or _personal beliefs_, can I not captain?"

"Yes, sir," Phoebus agreed dryly, understanding that it is better not to speak much in the odd situation he was into.

"Well, we are going to see about this," the stranger produced with a smirk on his face, mockingly examining the soldier one more time. The confused expression of the captain reminded his superior to explain him who this man was:

"Captain Phoebus, this is Monsieur Jacques Olivier de Bourges, king's representative in the royal bailliage, and a close friend of his majesty. His presence in the city is related with matters of official business, however I must admit that we do not anticipated your arrival for at least another week," Frollo drawled with pretentious formality, this time addressing the stranger.

"Our Lord in Heaven was kind enough to provide me with an unimpeded travel to Paris, which has resulted in my arrival in advance," the delegate replied politely, but with a malicious smile, suggesting the planned earlier intrusion.

"I am glad to hear the safety in your journey and I can assure you that you are more than welcome in this city in any time," the minister returned back with the same hidden spite. "Please do know that my services and the ones of the soldiers in this city are yours and I will personally make sure your work here to pass uninterrupted, so you may return and not delay your report to our king."

"I am genuinely grateful for your words, but please do not hurry so much to send me away, I might as well expand my visit in this city," Olivier said with the usual ridiculed courtesy, examining the minister's expression.

"But of course," Frollo agreed with the same impenetrable coolness. "You are welcome to stay as much as you wish, and I can assure you would find Paris impeccable and excellently managed both by its Law and Church."

"This might be so, but it would not be a lie if I say I have heard otherwise," the other man objected, as a probing smile curled the edges of his mouth.

"Would you be kind enough to explain what you mean by that," the minister asked with a surprising calmness.

The small eyes of the intruder wandered around in a sarcastic caution, before he rubbed his beardless chin with his fleshy fingers and turned again to the judge:

"Perhaps that conversation would be better examined in a more private setting, would you not agree?"

Frollo dismissed the several soldiers, who were around them with a gesture, but as Phoebus begun to withdraw the delegate stopped him:

"Captain Phoebus, you might be interested in what it would be discussed here," he said, perhaps enjoying his position too much.

The soldier looked questionably his superior, but as the minister nodded dryly they both returned their full attention on the king's representative. He made a dramatic pause, looking around, before he proceeded:

"Well, my friends, I find it in no need to hide from you the purposes of the king's decision to send me here; you see he is very pleased with the way you have handled his citizens in Paris, but the gypsies are not really citizens of his kingdom, are they? Their base ways of leaving outside any boundaries and rulers is like a festering wound in the nation, which must be stopped before it had spread its infection upon the obedient servants of our majesty."

"I understand you completely," the minister agreed after Olivier had made another dramatic pause, "and you may rest assure only by looking the records of this city that for more than twenty years I have been taking the law in its full power for dealing with that problem."

"Yes, indeed, however a rumor is afloat that recently you have become careless in that matter and that Paris' soldiers, too concerned in their own sloth, are letting witches and criminals go unpunished on the street."

"If you have crossed half of the country because of a rumor, I am afraid you have lost your time," Frollo said sharply, lost any note of politeness.

"This may be so, but is it just a rumor that half of the dungeons are empty in expense of the increase of gypsies in and around the city," the nobleman hissed with a taunt smile.

"So we're supposed to kill the poor things for just being here," Phoebus objected with a reproach for the first time since he had been tactically suggested by his superior to be quite.

"Captain Phoebus, please do not bring up your personal believes for that matter," the minister quickly stopped the soldier to continue any further.

"The captain may speak his mind," Olivier started sarcastically, "but if I did not know better your reputation, I would have thought that you too, minister Frollo, have developed pity upon them."

Frollo's eyes narrowed with spite.

"I can assure you, Monsieur Olivier, no witch in here is treated with less than what she deserves," the minister clenched coldly through his teeth.

Just at that moment a soldier approached the three men:

"Minister Frollo, I am sorry to bother you, but a woman was captured today at the Place de Grève, practicing black magic, as we are speaking they are leading her to you."

"Good," the minister murmured as he turned again to the delegate, leaving his back to the soldier: "Monsieur Olivier, an excellent opportunity has come for you to witness with your own eyes that the rumors of me going soft to the gypsies are nothing more but groundless lies."

Frollo's voice was firm and cold, as his eyes kept looking down to the face of the shorter man. However, the captain's attention was in an instant captured in the wretched soul, whom two soldiers were dragging forcefully to their superiors. For the first time in the company of the two other men, Phoebus felt unusually alert and awake, as he had more than well recognized the new prisoner.

"Minister Frollo, may be you shouldn't hurry so much with your assumptions," the captain started awkwardly, interrupting the conversation of the judge with the delegate.

The minister turned to the captain with irritation, as he was still with his back to the scene that had put the soldier at unease:

"Do I need to remind you, captain, who is in charge here," he snarled through his teeth.

"No, sir, but…"

"But I would appreciate if you keep your emotions for yourself," Frollo interrupted him sharply, "and execute the law as it is for such matters."

"Of course, sir… but I'm sure you'll agree that this gypsy in particular is not guilty," the captain made another attempt, as he was faintly acquainted with what he had heard had happened a month ago.

However, the minister was more than irritated that the soldier was not taking any hint when he had to be silent, not leaving their discords for a time when they were not supervised by a king's messenger.

"If she is innocent she has nothing to fear, but the law is strict for such crimes," the minister drawled coldly to the captain, as just in that time the two other soldiers threw violently the wretched creature in the feet of the three men. Frollo did not turned instantly as he looked one more time towards the delegate, adding with a great certainty in his voice: "and Monsieur the Bailliage might as well became a witness of an execution of a witch during his visit in the city."

Olivier smirked pleased; as the minster's calm, dark, confident, and vicious eyes turned just in time to meet with the exhausted, anxious, big, and green ones of Esmeralda.


	20. Prudence

_A/N _First I just want to thank for the wonderful reviews and apologize that my uploads are a little slow lately.

Nevertheless, for this chapter I planned to have it as one with the next one, but eventually decided to divide them. Well, the good news about that is that I will update the next one within a few hours. PROMISE!

About this one: Enjoy! 

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**_Prudence:_**

Everything was ceased, distant, half-remembered…; and yet Frollo's senses were surging violently in all his insides throwing him to the edge of unbearable sensation of life and hollow death. He was struck; his lungs were out of air, his heart was slamming wildly into his chest, and his whole essence was consumed into the two green mesmerizing emeralds before him. The sun was burning hot high above them, creating even more unrealistic picture before him of the most beautiful angelic creature of fire. His motionless state was giving him incredible pain, but the idea to try to tear himself off the violent river of emotions within him just to step into the harsh reality was even more hurtful. So he stood up there as a statue, having behind him the captain of his guards and the delegate and before him watching frozenly down his feet the miserable gypsy, all of which seemed awaiting into some anticipation his reaction.

He was incapable of doing anything; and even though the gypsy and the captain seemed to have sunken in a similar motionless shock due to the unexpected reunion, Olivier on the other hand seemed taken in a cluster of different emotions:

"Well, well, well, a gypsy would never surprise me to be Hell's servant, but bless my soul, you are a pretty thing," the delegate drawled with a mocking superiority gazing shamelessly all over the girl.

Those words were enough to snap out Phoebus from his thoughts as he looked disapprovingly at the king's messenger barely holding not to talk him back; however the same statement did not appear to have any effect at the intense stares of the gypsy and the minister. Olivier, completely ignorant of what was happening right before his eyes, waited few moments as if anticipating the judge to say something, but pretty quickly assumed the responsibility of conducting that investigation:

"What has she done," he asked perhaps too eagerly one of the soldiers, who had brought her.

The man seemed puzzled at the demand of the stranger as he was not acquainted of who he was, let alone at all see as someone else is giving orders at the presence of the minister. The sergeant looked confused at his two superiors, receiving absolutely nothing from the stone expression of the judge, whose eyes were still pinned down before him, but when he turned to Phoebus an inpatient nod encouraged him to answer the question:

"Sir, the gypsy exercised magic to make a goat beg for food on the square before the Notre Dame cathedral and when we attempted to capture the animal she intruded the operation, performing more witchcraft tricks to try escaping us. The goat must have been some devil, because after we killed it the gypsy was easy to arrest."

Frollo listened numbly, seeing the sparkling tears in the girl's eyes, as for the first time since she had been thrown in his feet he became aware of the dark spots of blood on her arms and colorful skirt.

"There's no proof that she is a witch from what you said," Phoebus objected, attacking his own subordinate.

The soldier seemed confused, but before he spoke up again he was interrupted by Olivier:

"But I beg you, captain, do not hurry so much to dismiss the facts," the delegate hissed, his eyes sparkling with bloodlust. "Please, sergeant, proceed with your report," he encouraged the soldier, as Frollo still seemed unresponsive and perhaps the king's messenger flattered himself too much to consider that the minister had given him the honor to conduct the investigation.

"Yes, sir," the sergeant produced confused, as after giving a quick glance first at the disapproving face of Phoebus, then at the cold, indifferent features of the judge and finally at the cunning smile of approval from the stranger he continued: "After her arrest we found in her possession charms, pagan amulets, and even weapons among other prohibited witchcraft objects."

"You are lying," the soft voice of the girl keenly objected, interrupting her eye contact with the minister and trying to shift herself so she could face her accuser.

"Shut up," the other of the two soldiers barked as he forced her by the shoulders to the ground. Frollo observed coldly, however the captain did not possess the judge's success of emotional suppression.

"Stop it, those are just words, where is the proof for all that," Phoebus retorted angrily, sure that if not by now then that was the final drop that convinced the delegate that the captain was not fit for his job. No matter what the lieutenant still believed he was a good man and cared in his own way about the gypsy, however he was of course concerned about his reputation as well, as even a thought passed his mind how come the minister had not ordered him at least ten times by now to silence.

"Uh, sir," the sergeant started, as his captain's accusations against the soldiers seemed even more confusing than usual, "as it was more than obvious that we are dealing with a witch we figured we had to get rid of all her possessions as they might have been cursed" the soldier reported coolly.

"Liar," Esmeralda shouted again, as she tried unsuccessfully to pull off the grip of the other soldier. "And my money, did you take them too because they were cursed!"

"Silence, you witch," the sergeant said as he slapped her harshly through the face.

No matter of how cold he was forcing himself to be, the witnessing of that scene immediately made the blood in Frollo's veins boil with fury against the soldier. Nevertheless, he remained the same frozen statue.

"Sergeant, what money the sinful thing is talking about," Olivier demanded superiorly, as his eyes wondered all over the happening scene, as if trying to study all aspects of it, _and yet missing the main one. _

"Sir," the soldier coughed, as if trying to gather his thoughts, "we found a large amount of money, which a girl like her could not have had unless she had made some pact with the devil or earned them in another dishonest way."

Olivier smirked mockingly:

"I see, and what did you do with the money?"

"Uh, sir, we had to get rid of them as well," the sergeant produced idiotically.

"Understandable," the delegate approved, not at all caring about the justice of the property and too consumed in the lust of slandering the criminal even more: "Minister Frollo," he addressed the judge, making him for the first time since the girl was brought to them to break his stare from her and turn to the king's messenger, "judging by the report of your subordinate I presume you would add to the charge of sorcery as well theft and prostitution?"

Frollo turned again to meet the eyes of the gypsy, as his own ones were oddly mingled between painful hesitation and coldness:

"Yes, of course, Monsieur Olivier, I would certainly not neglect those charges," the judge agreed in even more than his usual note of indifference.

"But those are lies! Do you believe those liars and not me," the gypsy yelled out of any reasonable state, her heart pounding wild just by the boldness of her voice to address the minister in such manner.

For luck or for misfortune, the last statement seemed to fail to be heard by anyone else than Frollo as one of the soldiers slapped her brutally through the face one more time and kicked her to the ground. The scene made Olivier smirk in approval; the captain to tighten his fists and clench his teeth in contained anger; and the minister to snap out of the carefully built repression of his emotions:

"That's enough," he yelled with fury to the soldiers, who startled confused; making all participants of that scene look at the judge surprised. Fortunately, the managing of temper was a good quality of the minister: "Take her to the torture room," he ordered with the most freezing and indifferent tone that the girl had ever heard him produce.

"What," Phoebus objected keenly to the given order; now knowing for sure that he would be the only defender of the girl. Olivier too seemed disappointed that his street show would come to an end as he and the captain both stared again at the minister.

"She would not confess us anything willingly so we have to proceed with the law in that situation," the judge said with the same coldness; however his words lacked his usual patience and calmness.

"But you can't do this! That's Esm…"

"Captain Phoebus," the judge sharply interrupted the new protestation of his subordinate, "I hardly care what your relation with that woman is or who she is! The law is clear and I shall advice you to follow it unless you wish me to find someone else to replace you," the minister said with the same freezing superiority, which however somehow achieved to channel all his wrath of the incontrollable situation to threatening the lieutenant.

Phoebus' teeth and fists were clenched as his eyes were piercing straight at the austere and deadened look of the minister; however Frollo's words kept him silent.

"All that is good, but please minister if the captain is done with the objections shall we proceed," Olivier drawled with a mock, impatiently lusting for the view of more suffering of what he considered the _inferior creature_.

"Of course Monsieur Olivier," Frollo started, returning to his usual note of hollow pleasantry, "however I am highly opposed to present you with the sight of the dungeon and the smell of the prisoner's rotten flesh at your first day in Paris." Before he continued he made a pause, in which the judge gestured to the waiting in front of them guards to carry on with his order of leading the gypsy to the Palace of Justice. It was when they were gone from their sights the minister addressed again the king's messenger: "Instead, I would like you to be accompanied to the house, which I have intended for you, where I am sure you could use some rest from your long journey," at that moment the delegate made a face ready to refuse the minister's offering, however Frollo interrupted him before he had even tried to speak up with a tone that somehow succeeded to suggest a hidden command: "Please, Monsieur Olivier, you would do me a great honor if you allow me to take care of the details of your arrival, and I promise you from tomorrow you would be able to fully inspect Paris in whatever manner you consider the most fitting."

For a moment the delegate did not reply anything, as if examining carefully the request, at the same time resembling a dog who did not wish to let go of his bone, but finally he said:

"Very well, minister, however I must inform you I am taking a special interest in that witch as I believe the progress of her case would give me valuable insight on the way you are handling the situation with the gypsies in this city."

A heavy weight was trapped in the chest of the minister as he attended those words and saw a familiar spark in the eyes of the delegate; the same spark which had implanted itself in the judge's mind when he had seen Esmeralda for the first time. The fatal attraction that the girl possessed had drawn Olivier to the same instincts that had obsessed Frollo at first place- _not desire, but the bloodlust of destroying the unexplained beauty. _

"I would not have thought it otherwise," the minister heard himself reply with indifferent politeness, bitterly realizing how unavoidable the situation had become. He gestured to the carriage of the delegate, urging him to go inside as he said: "I personally plan to be present at her interrogation and I am assuring you to report back all that has happened, as I apologize in advance that my duty would not allow me to welcome you properly, but captain Phoebus would accompany you to your chambers and he will be entirely at your services in my absence."

Olivier nodded with authority as he climbed his carriage, and waited inside for his driver to follow the way that the captain was supposed to lead. Frollo closed the door of the carriage, relieved that he had succeeded for now to get rid of some of his problems, when Phoebus' determined voice was heard behind him:

"Sir, I prefer you to send some other soldier with the delegate and let me go to the Palace of…"

"I don't care what you prefer," the minister sharply interrupted the captain, leaving all his fury spread in his voice, but still keeping it quite enough so not to be heard by Olivier. "What kind of idiot you think I am to let you any near the dungeons!" Frollo's eyes narrowed as he continued with the same hissing fury: "After the scene you made in front of Olivier I'd better advice you to start worrying about your own messes! I warn you, it is in your advantage to make this man convinced by the end of the day that you are serving completely and only the king's wishes unless you wish to look for another job!"

Phoebus hands were clenched into fists, as he was not ready to let go; something inside him was throbbing at the only thought of knowing that Esmeralda could be tortured:

"I won't let you hurt her so to impress some quack," the captain protested eagerly.

"That _quack_ can have us all hanged by sunrise including your precious gypsy!"

"Don't you care at all about her," Phoebus' voice asked provokingly.

Frollo paused for less than a second, as he looked aside, but then said coldly:

"Follow the orders that have been given to you, soldier."

"Promise me you won't harm her," the captain insisted, still unable to let go of the throbbing image in his head of seeing the beautiful gypsy in pain. Frollo paused again.

"For the sake of your career and _marriage_, make sure the king's delegate have everything he needs," the minister finally said with dry, superior tone as he turned his back on the captain and left before Phoebus had another chance to object him.

_WRATH__,_ rage, painful helplessness, and fury were all that Frollo could think of while he was crossing the corridors of the Palace of Justice. The anger was practically suffocating him; he was blind for everything before him, deaf for the pleading and cursing sounds which were coming from the cells in the dungeon and senseless to the cold and darkness that was surrounding him more and more with the advancing of the lower levels of the Palace. His mind was completely devoured by the most pernicious instincts, desperately grasping at the idea to direct them to some outer source, which could take all the blame.

Before he could even realize where he was he found himself before the familiar doors of the torture room; his body all too well knowing the way had brought him to the place which had before given him indifference, sense of authority and victory, and even amusement and pleasure in the agony of others; however now was different. Now, all that he could feel was his heart sinking within him; his breath stopping and filling his chest not with air but with unpleasant weight of guilt and confusion. What was the right thing to do now? He had denied any law of religion because of her, condemning his soul for eternity, but was he now to neglect his second faith, too? - The same faith that had brought him to prosperity and power; was he to disobey the human law too because of her? Was he at all able to do anything for her that would not simply lead to the execution of both of them? Damned to be the guards that had brought her; damned to be the weasel that the king had sent for his messenger, damned to be the love he had for the gypsy along with her, too!

Frollo pushed the heavy door open, as it slammed noisily onto the big stones behind it and presented the minister with the inside view of the room. His eyes widened with a mixture of anger, fury, and a great desire to kill the soldiers right there and then as he saw them amusingly pushing the gypsy to the wet wall and pulling her struggling hands up to lock them in rough chains that were hanging nearby. The simple gypsy dress that she was wearing was sloppily thrown aside and she was changed into the poor white rags that all the prisoners were wearing. The only thought of having the filthy hands and leering gazes of those animals upon the girl made him furious; as in the same time seeing her like that brought him memories of the past that made him sick to his stomach.

"Get out," Frollo ordered in freezing voice, which immediately startled the two soldiers, the old guard which was smirking mockingly in the one corner of the room, and the troubled gypsy. His subordinates looked puzzled as they remained at the same places. "Out, you idiotic SWINES, OUT," the minister yelled lost in rage as he rushed a few steps inside, freeing the exit of the room.

The two soldiers as if they were burned, suddenly jerked their hands off the gypsy, letting her barely manage to stay on her feet, as they murmured something from the sort of "Yes, sir," and headed to the exit. The old guard put the torch that he was holding on a stand on the wall and as he was passing the minister, sensing more than well his mood and the danger of it, he bent his head in miserable submissiveness and in that manner hurried to leave after the soldiers.

Frollo's eyes caught for a moment the enlarge green ones of the gypsy, who did seemed paralyzed, but then quickly shift his look to the opened door as he went to the exit, ordering to the soldiers outside with the same cold authority nobody to disturb him no matter what happened, and noisily closed the door, locking it from inside.

It took just a few seconds for the stilled as a frightened statue girl to adapt to the change in the room that had occurred; now completely unable to say whether it was for good or bad. The minister was still locking the door as the gypsy became more and more aware of his presence at the same time increasing the anxiety in her to unbearable levels. Her heart was madly slamming her chest; her lungs were filled with the chilly dampness of the room; her bare feet were freezing, and yet it was not the cold that was making her shier.

The minister paused for a moment with his back to her, closing his eyes for a few seconds and then turned to meet her eyes. Once again his austere look was locked in her, making the girl immediately feel awkwardness and embarrassment.

"I should have never let you go," the judge mumbled mostly to himself in painful sorrow.

Suddenly Esmeralda felt too exposed before him, and as she bent her head she hurried to fix upon her the poor rag as best as it could cover her and used her crossed arms to hide from view the rest of her bosom. Her face was still down, but the emerged silence or something else was urging her to speak up and defend herself:

"I haven't done anything wrong," she murmured with dry and exhausted voice, barely managing to hear her words from the pondering of her heart. "I am inno…"

"You are a fool," Frollo sharply interrupted with the same austere voice that he had addressed the soldiers a few moments ago.

Esmeralda's sparkling eyes lifted to meet his:

"What," she produced in a trembling voice, suddenly feeling a cold chill run through her already cold body.

"Foolish girl, what were you thinking you were doing," the minister continued with the same insensitiveness, barely sustaining not to bust into something even worse which he would have surely to regret later.

The gypsy was speechless.

"Damn it, what devil made you be the wretched witch you are!"

"I have done nothing wrong," the girl objected keenly as she pushed herself from the wall, stepping a few steps towards Frollo, as a flash of strength rushed her to defend herself in whatever manner was needed. "I am NOT A WITCH; I was just trying to escape those animals!"

Her voice was making the minister lose any sense of reality; all opposite emotions of love and hate were surging wildly inside him, strengthened to the most excruciating ends of inner agony. What difference did it make that she was innocent; what difference did it make that he would rather die before ever having to see her so miserable again? What was the right thing to do when law and logic made so little sense to him?

"Shut up," he commanded loudly, unable to hear her voice on top of all others.

"NO! Your men accused me falsely on everything," the gypsy insisted, closing with a few more steps the distance between them. "Those _soldiers_ killed my little Djali just to make feast out of her meet; are these the kind of monsters you let to serve you!"

"You don't have the right to tell me how to manage my work," the minister hissed threateningly, realizing how empty all those threats are.

"Don't I! Those men slandered me, made me look like a criminal when they are the real ones, and on top of it took all my possessions! The greedy bastards saw it simpler to burn me as a witch so to have my money! And all that you could say is that you won't neglect to charge me as a whore as well? I had that money from the fucking dress you left me with; I should have known better that everything that comes from you is damned to bring me only misery!"

"STOP IT; I don't care!"

"Why? Don't I have the right to defend myself," Esmeralda continued with the same tone filled up with tears and anger. "Those men of yours were ready to rape me if you had come a minute later, but I guess that just makes them more like their minis…"

"Don't," Frollo said with austerity that made the reckless creature return the sense of awkwardness in his presence. Her eyes, which she had carefully tried to avoid meeting with the minister's, were automatically drawn to his dark and ever-severe ones.

"I am innocent," she produced in a confident voice after a pause.

"It does not matter; your charges are serious and there are a lot of witnesses to confirm them," Frollo stated mechanically.

Esmeralda made a small step backwards:

"So you are going to let them burn me?"

"The law is clear on the matter of witchcraft," the minister replied with the same emotionless tone.

"Even though you have said that you…" the gypsy was not bold enough to finish her sentence; how could she at all bring up his confession of love which had haunted her ever since it was made more than a month ago. She sighed heavily, bending her head down and repeating: "I haven't done anything, I am innocent. I haven't conjured devils or bewitched nobody…."

"Stop it," the minister once again interrupted her with severity, but he could not hide any longer his trembling with helplessness voice. His words were still cold, and yet there was so much more other emotions escaping from them: "I do not care… Have you not realized it yet? I don't care even if you are the devil itself!"

Esmeralda pierced him with her emerald eyes and in that moment he could have sworn that she wanted him almost as badly as he was craving for her every day. He made the final step, which closed completely the distance between them; she was motionless, resembling a stone statue. Frollo's intent eyes wondered between her look and her lips, unable to decide whether that was what she really wanted. Did it matter? He could no longer hear the thousand surging thoughts of guilt in his mind, but they were not gone as well. His body was still aching tremendously just because of the experienced and still experiencing wrath and frustration of the situation; however all that had transcended in a level that was not anymore at the center of his attention.

Finally, Frollo leaned and imprinted half-way his burning lips on the ones of the gypsy. She jumped a step backwards, separating from him, in a manner that suggested her startling and disapproval of the act, which she did not seem to mind a second earlier. Esmeralda rushed her fingers to her mouth, touching it as if the minister had done the most offensive deed upon her lips, while her enlarged eyes stared back at his. He did nothing but look intently at her. Her glare nervously shifted from his to the floor, then to her hand, to him and then again gradually up to his face. Speechless, motionless, and completely clueless of how to react she did nothing more.

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Love reviews and the next one probably in three- four hours...


	21. Hope

_**Hope:**_

The seconds were elapsing slowly one after another as if gradually increasing the distance between them. The awaiting was getting unbearable for the minister; he knew that the gypsy was confused, scared, and hurt, but he was too and that's why he needed that.

Frollo reached slowly for her hand, grasping it tenderly, but firmly as he removed it from her mouth and attempted a second more sure and strong kiss, as he secured her head with his other arm. She did not resist in any way this time; her trembling lips opened, letting herself completely at the judge's mercy. His tongue slid deep inside her, thoroughly searching for all the sweet taste of his beloved one, which he had not been having for so long time. And now… was now God punishing him to remember all her beauty just to make him lose her again for good?

The kiss was becoming deeper, more obsessive, and more possessive as Esmeralda was finally forced to pull back in order to have the chance to catch her breath. Separated for the second time, they both were gasping heavily for the air, which their affection had taken from their lungs. Their looks met again.

"I should have never let you go," Frollo produced between his heavy breaths, bitterly staring at the gypsy. She did not reply.

The minister paused in a quiet moment and then suddenly rushed again all over her, as the weight of his body made her step backwards until her back was pinned to the stone wall behind her. Frollo's lips were once more sealed passionately to hers, stuffing uncontrollably her mouth with a mixture of gentle and rough kisses. Eager, breathless, passionate, and adoring Frollo did not gave her any chance to separate from him again, but the gypsy did not seem to mind it at all.

Pressed between the damp stones and the strong body of the minister, which was pushing her persistently, the girl felt an odd sense of comfort and delight. A warm shiver of pleasure ran through her spine, making her blood boil with unsuspected passion while her cold palms separated from the wall and grasped thirstily into the minister as if he was a life-saving vessel. Her mouth opened even more, devouring as much from his lips and tongue as she could.

"It's entirely my fault," Frollo produced barely understood between his gasps, moans, and kisses. His mouth was not separating from hers, as he breathed heavily: "I shouldn't have let you go."

His nose and forehead were pressed on her face as he tried for a brief time to inhale some air in his empty lungs, but then again slid his tongue all the way through her throat as if she was the only oxygen he needed. It followed another kiss and another… Esmeralda shifted breathlessly her head aside, pressing her cheek to the cold stone behind her, as she escaped his lips and gasped loudly for air.

"Then why did you," she asked half heard, at the same time moaning pleasurably as the new occupation of the minister was to adore with kisses her ear, cheek, and neck.

Frollo placed both his hands on the gypsy's head, slightly forcing her to turn back to him, as his own face was once again glued to hers.

"Wasn't it what you wanted," he whispered with a husky voice as his down lip went leisurely through her chin and stopped between her lips, resulting in another devouring kiss.

He pulled back from her, giving her the chance to reply as his eyes pierced at hers in a surreptitious look. Her mouth remained opened, but she did not say anything; instead her eyes started uncontrollably to burn and blurred. Before she could realize what had happened she sensed the minister's hand holding firmly her face, as his thumbs wiped away her tears. He kissed her, as the taste of the wet salt spread in their mouths. He looked her, wiping a new wave of tears, and then again returned back his tongue in her, twisting it fervently with hers.

"I love you," he breathed still being deep in her.

Esmeralda produced a faint whine; but too short of air and overwhelmed with the pressure of his body she did nothing more. Her mouth was freed for shortly, as Frollo obsessively traced with his teeth and lips once again her neck, ecstatically trembling when a loud sigh of pleasure was heard near his ear. One of his hands slid between them, feeling thoroughly her bosom and sensing delightfully the hammering heart in her chest. He found his way back to her gasping mouth filling it over and over again with his yearning tongue. Her hands clutched him by the shoulders as she lifted herself a little upper to his height, as well pressing her lips hard to his. She was completely out of air; her heart was pounding wildly; her limbs were ice cold, and yet she could not deny for any longer the only solution she knew for her intent emotions.

Their tongues were searching eagerly the moist in the other's mouth; tangling and fucking each other fervently, roughly, greedily and needy for more. A long withheld, forbidden, and feared passion was unfolding and bursting as both of them guided by controversial and frustrating feelings were trying desperately to grasp at each other, willingly drowning in the pleasures of their mortal flesh. The minister's soul was already damned in agony beyond any describable guilt; the gypsy's mind was confused, hurt, and damaged as she could not forget the misery of the past; and yet they were both now standing in the damp darkness of the underground's tortures desperate to relieve the throbbing pain with the passions of their bodies.

Frollo's hand slid further down between her breasts, to her stomach, belly button, and downer reaching the treasures of her beauty through the dirty fabric of her robe. The girl gasped loudly in pleasure, as her mouth was still half devoured by his and uncontrollably pulled her head backwards, heating the stone wall behind and biting her lip to suppress another moan from the joyful waves which were bathing her body. The minister's wiry fingers were well feeling her most tender places, as his other hand was also put down and was now gathering the white rags of her skirt. The cold air in the room hurried to sting harshly the newly exposed flesh, making cold shivers mingle with the pleasantly throbbing ones all over the gypsy. She moaned in a defenseless content as the judge's hand slid between her already lifted skirt, exploring with his cold fingers the warmth between her legs. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, groaning less controlled as for a consecutive time the minister's tongue was stuffed in her throat.

"I love you," Frollo gasped breathlessly once again, rubbing his face onto hers.

He pulled his head a little bit back from hers so his eyes intently to observe the wonder in her enlarged ones as he inserted one of his fingers into her wet entrance. A whining moan sharply pierced the stilled dungeon area, making both of them feel oddly comforted that the walls of the torture room were tick.

Frollo shoved another finger in her; eagerly exploring her wet walls while his own stiffened member burned in an aching pain to fill her up. Pinned completely with her back and head to the cold stones behind her the gypsy moaned once more, driving the blood of the judge boil with incredible lust. His fingers moved back from between her legs, as he tightly gripped her with both of his hands by the waist and immediately pressed strongly his pelvis to hers, completely preventing the gathered fabric above her thighs to fall down. Another fierce kiss followed, as the girl barely had the chance to catch her breath; and then he lifted her roughly, sliding her up the damped wall and placing himself even firmer between her legs. The new arrangement had put the gypsy into a position where a rusty and big chain was passing behind the upper part of her back, but Esmeralda was now so tightly fixed between him and the stones that she could hardly make any objection even if she wished to.

Her head was still pulled back, as their lips parted with having her face above his; however the minister's mouth was continuing thirstily to suck on the skin of her neck and collar bone. One of his hands slid to the edge of her robe near her shoulder and eagerly clutched and started to wildly pull down the rag fabric, revealing more naked places where he could print his burning lips on. The cloth was diagonally stripped off her torso as it exposed in its full charms one of her breasts, filling the mouth of the minister with saliva only by its view. His teeth and tongue quickly found their way to her hardened nipple, leaking and sucking it lustfully. Completely stimulated by the pressure of his groin to hers and the joyful abuse upon her skin, the girl was panting uncontrollably, remaining breathless to express the increasing nagging pain in her back of the pressing her chain.

Frollo suddenly pulled one of his hands off her, which did not at all made any difference upon her lifted and strongly pressed body to the wall, as he hastily grabbed his white collar and impatiently ripped it off his neck. His face was immediately sunken again in her bosom while his hand directed wildly to open and tear the buttons of his black gown. The pain between his legs was getting anxiously uncontrollable, guiding his entire body to mindless lust.

His gown was opened, as the stinging cold bitted as well the white flesh of his naked chest, but the minister was burning with far greater fire within him to even feel the physical discomfort. With one layer removed from the way, the judge's groin was once again pressed to the exposed tender parts of the gypsy, as the fully erected and completely hardened member between her legs bathed the gypsy with a new wave of throbbing anticipation. The black fabric of his pants was all that was separating the two lovers to become one, as Esmeralda moaned pleadingly for the sense of the upcoming pleasure. Frollo's other hand traced roughly her curvaceous forms, going all the way down to her thigh. He abruptly clutched and lifted it, bending her leg and pushing it at the same time to her and closer to his body, placing his loin even more to her opening. Her puffs and moans overlapped, as the new position of joy as well increased the uncomfortable pain with the pressure of the uneven wall behind her.

"It hurts me," she whimpered piercingly without a breath, as her mouth was all that could move while her entire body was left completely at the mercy of the minister.

With a buried face in her chest, Frollo pulled back his head, gasping for air as his eyes lifted above to meet blankly hers.

"The chain…," the gypsy muttered between her heavy exhales of air after a pause, "behind me."

Frollo watched her for another second as if completely incapable to understand what her words meant, and then suddenly his arm was embracing her behind her back as the other wrapped beneath her folded knee and she was abruptly pulled from the cold wall. In the same impatient and hast manner he shifted her, and without even looking anywhere different from her, he carried her and dumped heavily, but not harshly, her body to a black, leathern bed on the floor of the torture room. His own body followed inseparably hers, as it had not past a second before he placed himself closely above her laying figure.

Without losing a moment more, Frollo took hold of his pants, pulling them off his loin and relieving with a moan the gathered tension from the restricted area of his erection. The gypsy's hands automatically clutched into the two pieces of his opened gown as she spread readily her legs open for him. The minister quickly put his palms on the black leather beneath them, balancing himself, as he thrust all too eager and lustful his stiffened member into her, craving to receive the sinful bliss on the same bed on which he alone had witnessed so many wretched creatures to have writhed in agony.

Joy and throbbing pleasure entirely bathed both of their bodies, numbing all their worries and pain while pushing them in the ocean of carnal desires. Frollo shoved his full length deep in her, making her body jerk with throbbing delight. Esmeralda was suffocating with the gasps of air, as her lungs seemed to have shut down, leaving her with an open mouth and enlarged sparkling in the dark emerald eyes. The minister withdrew from her almost fully, as she made a slight whimper, sliding her hands around his body and holding onto him as strong as she could. He penetrated her fully again and again, each time shortening the pauses between it and increasing the hot friction of their genitals.

Frollo's lips, burning for hers, leaned and stuffed in her opened mouth his tongue, engaging in another possessive and rough kiss; sucking, biting, abusing, and bruising the girl's soft flesh. Esmeralda did not seemed to mind at all; tangled completely with the minister's body she was as submissive servant to all his wishes as one possibly could. Moans and groans were escaping between the gaps of their joined mouths, panting and breathing heavily into each other incapable to separate.

Suddenly the judge jerked his head backwards, closing his eyes and biting his own lip as the rhythm of his thrusts increased. Any control over their moans was completely destroyed; the dark room filled up with the gypsy's overlapping groans of joy as Frollo became to ram her harder and harder. Her legs were buckling; her chest was intensely rising and falling; her mouth was dry; her eyelids were trembling rapidly, blurring all her vision; and her entire body was withering with pleasurable agony. In a similar state, all covered in sweat, the minister was continuing to roughly shove his burning groins into her, directing entirely all the anger of today's events into the pleasure of the moment. He puffed louder and louder, sensing the approaching of the final waves of joy, as one of his hands slid to her breasts, rubbing roughly her hard nipples, sending her as well to her ultimate moments of bliss.

Esmeralda withered, jerked, and screamed louder and louder beneath him as throbbing ecstasy was filling her entire essence. Finally the intense ache had reached the peak of pleasure that a human body can bear and burst powerfully, spreading indescribable joys all over the poor wretched, as the gypsy produced her lasts moans of relieve. The scene was more than enough to throw the minister as well to the sinful heaven, greatly reducing the tension between his legs as the warm tick fluid spurted into the already wet insides of the gypsy. He panted again and again, closing his eyes, and exhaustingly relaxing his body over the one of the gypsy.

The minutes were elapsing hollowly in the restored silence, which was only interrupted by the heavy gasps for air from the two motionless on each other figures. Their breaths had somewhat returned to their lungs as the minister lifted himself a little bit above her and stared at her oddly calmed eyes. Her look pierced at him as well, as if daring him for one more kiss of affection, but he did nothing. After a pause Esmeralda felt him withdrawing from her, as she felt unpleasantly empty, and a thought that had never before passed her mind suddenly hit her so unexpectedly that she did not even had the chance to deny it. She did not wish him to leave her…

Without having any control over her actions, Esmeralda's hands wrapped around his neck, preventing him to continue moving away from her, and pulled him to her lips. She kissed him faintly, waiting for response as her heartbeat increased in fear that there would be none. However, after a short pause she was responded back with slightly firmer kiss, which was still very tender. She sighed in relieve, and encouraged, her tongue searched for his, resulting in another and another affectionate moment.

"Please, don't leave me," she whispered barely heard in his mouth.

Her hands traced the back of his neck, circling to the front and going down his broad naked chest. Another and yet another soft kiss followed while her palms, half-way down his torso moved beneath the opened lose gown, sliding along the flesh of his back. They moved further down pulling his body closer to hers, as her legs as wells wrapped around his.

It is needless to say what thrills of joy beyond any physical one was filling the minister's heart, as those acts of affection excited all over again his body. Half-way erected, the head of his member was again pressing the wet opening of his lover. He kissed her more profoundly, and yet his kisses now were not like the ones before; they were far tenderer, devoting, and loving, but as well carrying within them a feeling of guilt, sorrow, and the oppressing sense as if they were the last ones before saying goodbye.

He knew what he had to do, and yet he could not let go. His heart sank within him as the gypsy put warmly her palm and finger over his cheek, but he had to put an end of it while he still had the strength. His hand grabbed firmly hers, preventing her affectionate path through his cheek and hair, as he separated from her lips, feeling at the same time some dark weight filling his entire essence. Still holding her tightly, he pressed her hand on the leathern bed as his stare was still incapable to move from her enchanting and now confused one. He sighed bitterly, forcing to close his eyes in a great inner pain, and once her adoring image was not before his view he found enough strength to pull back from her.

He rolled off her body, sitting on the edge of the created for tortures bed, and pulled his pants over his still somewhat excited groins, forcing himself not to think for the joyous sins. He got up, and set to fix the damages of his earlier lustful impatience over his gown. Esmeralda was not moving; she had just turned her head aside to observe him blankly.

After the minister had finished with his gown he barely turned his head, glancing without even seeing the gypsy, and yet knowing more than well in what condition he was to find her.

"You better dress yourself," he said in a hollow voice, as his look was fixed somewhere in the empty space. He added after a pause: "… guards will come to take you to your prison after I leave."

"What," the gypsy mumbled after some heavy silence, refusing to comprehend his words.

He did not reply anything; instead he went to the wall where he had thrown carelessly his white collar and picked it up from the floor. He was fixing around his neck, as the gypsy was still watching him blindly while gradually his words were piercingly coldly more and more in her. Suddenly the sting of the freezing damp hit her and she became more realized of her exposed body. Hastily, she said on the edge of the bed and fixed the poor and torn rag that was supposed to serve as a robe on her as much as it could cover and keep her warm.

"What are you doing," she asked stupefied, incapable to mover her eyes from the minister.

He had completely finished dressing as he looked at her in bitter guilt, but did not reply anything again.

"You are going to leave me…," she whimpered with blurred vision, realizing that he would not say it out loudly "… to die."

"The law is clear, I can't make an exception for you," the minister stated mechanically, while within him he felt as if a poisonous dagger was tearing apart his heart.

"What? ... Of course you can do whatever you want; you are the executer of the law in this city," the gypsy was whimpering half- realizing what she was saying.

"It would not be morally right to misuse the king's trust laid upon me," Frollo declared, barely managing to see her cry.

What use was there to tell her the true reason of his actions if he could not prevent anything? Did it matter at all if she knew that he was powerless to stop her sentence; that he was not anymore in charge for the execution of laws in this city; and that Olivier was the one guiding his hand while the judge was sending her to death? How could she understand that fate had thrown her to be the wretched victim, with whom the minister was supposed to proof himself? No, it would not make any difference; no, it was easier for her to blame him completely, as at least in that way her already confused, controversial, and troubling emotions would be relieved in her last days of living. Her suffering would be less if she had someone to blame for it; but more importantly Frollo would be more capable of doing what was requested from him if he was seeing in her eyes only reproach and detestation, and not the affection he had longed for a moment ago.

"And would it be morally right to kill me, even if you know that I am guiltless," the gypsy protested desperately, as she found herself oddly bothered more by his rejection to her than to the suggestion of her future death.

Frollo looked aside, but did not reply anything. He headed to the door, knowing that if he did not leave now he would not have the strength to do it.

"Don't leave me, please," Esmeralda cried out behind him, completely forgetting everything else but the fear that she would lose him. How, when, and why the pure hatred she had for him had transformed into something else she did not know, but now the realization and moreover the dread of him leaving her was making her brave enough to say out loud things she did not dare to admit even to herself. She made a few steps to him, crossing half-way the room as she whimpered miserably: "Please… if you love me… I can't… I…_I love you_."

Frollo stopped paralyzed, as her words pierced painfully in him, making him feel sicker than if she had yelled after him that she hated him. He swallowed bitterly, whole trembling and trying to detach from the hurricane of agony that was forming within him.

He turned towards her.

"No, you don't," he said dryly with a cynical smirk on his face.

Esmeralda's eyes were burning with hot tears and her heart was wildly hammering her chest, but she was refusing to let go.

"You can't possibly know how I feel," she protested with a shaky voice as she closed the distance between them, staring straight at his dark eyes and wishing nothing more on the world than to feel his embrace around her. Did she at all meant what she was saying she did not know; all that she knew is that her emotions had reached a dangerously tender peak and she hopelessly need someone to soothe them.

Her eyes upon him were getting more and more unbearable; the minister shifted his head aside looking in the empty space for a second, then suddenly grabbed her harshly and violently rushed her to the nearest wall, heating insensitively her back and head onto the stones.

"Can't I," he roughly hissed into her ear. "I know more than well how you felt whenever I was imprisoning and killing your people, or was that love?" He shook her by the shoulders violently, continuing with a scolding and cynical voice: "Have you so quickly forget that have you not agreed to be my whore I would have burned you months ago without a second thought?"

"Stop it," she pleaded, unable to hear him anymore. He hit her harder.

"Why do you think there is any difference now? Why! Answer me!"

Esmeralda was whimpering miserably:

"Because you love me."

The minister laughed with bitter supercilious voice.

"Did I love you when I opened your legs and dishonored you? Was it love that made me deprave you from your virtue! Well, answer me, damn it!" Frollo clutched her face and hit it roughly to the stones. Esmeralda tried to push him away, but she succeeded only to free her mouth.

"Stop it, I don't care! I love you now," she yelled half-way crying.

Frollo watched her stupefied for a moment, but then rushed to her lips kissing her in a brutal manner that was resembling anything else but a kiss. The painful act was getting unbearable as the gypsy put all her strength to push him off her face and slap him with all the power that her bruised dignity had. The minister grabbed both of her hands pinning them to the wall as his face stopped very close to hers.

"What is the matter, don't you love me now," he yelled fiercely before her. "For goodness sake what is wrong with you? I humiliated, beat, and dishonored you in any possible way!" The minister's hand slid roughly to her stomach, pushing it strongly against the wall, "I made you kill the wretched soul that I have shoved in you! Did you love me then? Well, did you?" Esmeralda did not reply; Frollo's hand went further down, pushing violently between her legs. "Or maybe you just love to be abused and fucked hard; is that it, you little whore!"

"Stop it, stop it, stop it," the gypsy screamed louder and louder, as she finally succeeded to fully push him off her, making him step a few steps backwards and make a great effort to stay on his feet. He remained there. "Do you want me so badly to hate you," she yelled with tears in her eyes, still with her back to the wall. "Fine! I HATE YOU; leave me, let them kill me as long as your conscious is clear; I hate you," the gypsy shed uncontrollably her tears as her first wave of detest was spent. "Apparently you don't care about me, but why are you putting it on me? Damn it, be a man and say that you DON'T LOVE ME!"

Frollo stood up there completely dumbfounded. He could not say anything more than what he had already. He speechlessly turned to the door and unlocked it, preparing to leave. As the gypsy saw that a new wave of miserable sorrow hit her, making her sobbing louder.

"But why," she muttered between the cries, "what is so wrong to share your love?"

The minister opened the door and paused:

"There's nothing wrong in it," he sighed in a contained voice, "but there is in everything else."

He left as he noisily slammed the door behind him. Esmeralda let out a sobbing exhale, unable to breath or thing anymore. She collapsed on the floor, miserably giving a voice to all her pain and awaiting the guards to take her away from the room of tortures.

_**FROLLO**_'s wrath was rising with even greater wave of fierceness than before. He crossed the dark corridors in complete trance of anger as he saw a couple of guards before him. They acknowledged him appropriately.

"Minister…"

"There is a gypsy in the torture room that needs to be transferred to a prison," the judge interrupted them sharply with a superior tone. They nodded ready to follow the order when their way was once again interrupted: "And you better consider yourself warned that even if a hair of her head is hurt you would pay for it with your lives no matter who is to blame," he barked fiercely, as he left the two bewildered guards behind him.

It was only when he had reached the first floors when he found a soldier from the army, immediately addressing him.

"Found the two men responsible for the capturing of the gypsy this afternoon," he ordered to the soldier, "and bring them as possible as you could to me."

"Yes, sir," the man hurried to agree and left the minister.

It was almost dark outside and Frollo knew that soon he had to go to the king's messenger and be hollowly pleasant before the man who was accountable for probably the greatest pain within the minister, but there was still time before it to spill his anger if not to the delegate so at least to the second guilty participants in the event.

_**THE TEARS**_ on Esmeralda's face were already dried, leaving only the red and puffed cheeks as a trace of her agitation. She was miserably sitting in her completely dark cell; where no light could be seen. It must have passed midnight, but there was no way she could be sure.

Her nerves were spent, her mind and body were exhausted, and she did not have the strength for anything at all. What thoughts or feelings were crossing her head were hard to distinguish when suddenly she heard a noise of approaching steps. Miserable hope filled the wretched as she lifted her head and stared intently at the dark. There was a torch near one of the walls outside her cells, but the produced flame was too poor to light anything at all. Nevertheless the figure had come to her cell, as she could recognize in the dark only the motion of a lose cloth around it.

"Frollo…" she whispered her heart pondering with broken hope. In that moment the figure came enough into the light so it could be distinguished. The gypsy sensed a cold wave running through her, as she murmured half-disappointed: "Phoebus."


	22. Adultery

A/N: I am SORRY, SORRY, SORRY it has taken me so long to update! I hate leaving cliff hangers and yet I could not bring myself to write these weeks. I still have a pretty good idea where the story would go, but please bare with me if it takes longer than usual to update them. Hopefully nothing like that long will happen again.

Anyway, please enjoy the chapter and I would love reviews.

* * *

_**Adultery:**_

_Noting more but a sinner_

"Esmeralda," the captain murmured in response, completely at lost of what to say. For a while they just stared at each other, none of them actually daring to speak up his mind. "You look terrible," Phoebus produced vaguely, but hurried to add: "I mean I should have stopped it… the torture."

"What torture," the gypsy asked half-conscience of his words.

"The one that they put you through, of course… Oh, Esmeralda, I should have tried harder to come sooner… to prevent every pain which that bastard have caused you!"

The girl trembled at the thought of what would have been if the captain had actually become a witness of the moans not of torture, but of pleasure which that _bastard_ actually _caused _her. She did not say anything, but instead her eyes escaped his in an ashamed and confused manner.

"I am sorry, Esmeralda," the captain continued genuinely, "I know that only the pain had pushed you to confess acts you have never committed… but because of that you would be sent to death…"

"Death," the gypsy suddenly exclaimed in alarm, lifting her head up. "But I have done nothing wrong; I haven't confessed anything!"

Phoebus looked at her idiotically.

"It is not your fault," he renewed after a minute, "you have been tortured… Frollo told everything to the king's messenger and probably they ate planning the execution as we speak."

Esmeralda shivered; was the captain's words true? Had the person, whose name she was waiting to hear now with anxious hope; had this person really condemned her to death?

"What messenger," she asked miserably, avoiding the thoughts of her tyrannical love.

"The king has sent a delegate to Paris to look after the execution of the laws; he believes that Frollo has gone soft on the gy… on the people. Frollo needed someone to take the blame and you just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time… That bastard! He'll sacrifice you in an instant and this delegate is just a new excuse for the minister to kill. You know that does not justify him!"

No it does not… and the wretched girl had just realized it bitterly.

"But if this man see me dying he would leave the rest of my people alone, wouldn't he," the gypsy asked in despair.

"No, Esmeralda, you won't die! I won't allow it," Phoebus objected quickly as he grabbed the bars of her cell. He stared for a second at her wet green eyes, but turned his down ashamed. The captain sighed with guilt: "Esmeralda… I am sorry… I should have never let you go…"

The girl felt freezing chills run through her spine- she had heard these words before.

"But you did," she scolded him silently.

Phoebus lifted his head, locking his warm eyes with her emerald ones. She was beautiful- even now, in the middle of the darkness and despair she was the most divine creature he had ever seen. How could he have ever denied her?

"I am here now, aren't I?"

The captain's look was at the same time remorseful, genuine, and confident enough to reassure the girl that it was nobody else but him that she needed right now. Her eyes and features somewhat softened in trusting manner that encouraged the soldier. He slowly spread his arm towards her face, but as soon as she realized what he was doing she jerked her head away from him.

"What would your wife say about this," the gypsy said with knitted eyebrows.

The slight smile on the captain's face disappeared as he looked away from her judging stare. He sighed heavily:

"I can't change the past, Esmeralda, and it would be a lie if I say that my marriage did not bring me some benefits. But I could never love another as much as I love you… I realize that now." Phoebus looked again at her eyes, showing nothing more but confidence: "I will get you out of here, trust me."

The gypsy was staring at him numbly.

"I won't be yours again," she stated after a pause in a quiet but clear voice.

The captain looked at her surprised; it had not been more than a few weeks ago when she was swearing to love him. Had her feelings cooled so quickly; what had changed?

"Do you love him," the captain asked in a jealous tone that the girl had not heard before.

"Who?"

"You know very well who."

Esmeralda broke her stare from the suddenly serious and unwelcoming eyes of the soldier. She did not want to answer him; it was not his right to ask her at first place. In an instant the whole body of the gypsy became cold and numb as she felt hot waves of shame pouring over her face. It was as if Phoebus had asked her something so shameful and forbidden that it was never supposed even to be thought of let alone spoken out loudly. She turned her head to the wall beside her, knowing very well that the captain was still waiting for her response.

"You can't even say it, can you," Phoebus started after a long pause. "Anyway, it doesn't matter, because I won't just stand by and let you be his victim. Tomorrow afternoon I will come to get you out and after that you may thank me in whatever way you see fitting."

The girl looked back at the soldier, but he did not give her any chance to speak up.

"I didn't mean that…" he started a little bit more softly, "Look, just know that I will never leave you to die no matter what and I will do whatever you want me to… I am here for you, Esmeralda, and this time I won't give up on us so easily."

The gypsy did not say anything. Phoebus paused for a few seconds, still leaned at the bars, as if hoping that he would receive any kind of permission to proceed a step further in his affections, but the girl gave him none. He barely noticeably sighed a bit disappointed, adding:

"Just try to hold on until tomorrow, I won't let you down, I promise."

Esmeralda's eyes were again full of tears, but she could not shed them anymore. She nodded mechanically and without any other encouraging response the captain left the dungeon leaving the wretched creature behind him in complete darkness and confusion.

_**THE NIGHT**_ passed slowly. The girl was frozen to death and she could not even close her eyes without giving herself completely in the agony and dread which were torturing her soul. Hope, pain, love, and death had become nothing more but hallow words for her, which possessed only the meaning of misery. Did she want to be saved by her former lover or did she rather have her killed by the hand of her new wretched affection? Esmeralda did not know. With the coming of the morning the dwelling feelings in her had reached such unbearable peaks that the girl was doubtful that she could rely on any of her emotions for an answer.

It was ridiculous… her love to him was ridiculous. It was not a love but the scars of a victim so mistreated that eventually had started to confuse the callings of her own heart. How could she ever think of loving the minister? Was he not the villain who had brought her all the greatest misfortunes which she could go through? Was he not the same depraved man who was telling her that he loved her while at the same time beating and tearing mercilessly every bit of her flesh?

Yes, most certainly her love to him was nothing more but a sick reflection of his own one- ill, perverted, and twisted adoration. And yet she could not forsake so easily the love that she had for him for was he to come to her now she would have accepted him unconditionally. The girl was feeling filthy and wretched only for realizing how deep those outrages affections had taken root within her heart and she wished to stifle the unhappy passion that burned in her soul, but was love an illness to be cured?

Approaching noise, different from the usual laughter of soldiers, snapped her out of her trance and she stared at the dark corridor in alarm. Soon enough a figure with a faintly burning torch came into view, as this time she undoubtedly recognized the blonde hair and the dark blue clock of the captain. She stood up, but did nothing more while watching him coming to her cell.

He looked somewhat nervous and very conscious as he looked a few more times before leaning on the bars that were separating them.

"Esmeralda," he whispered, as she made just a step towards him, "it's almost noon and it's the shift of the soldiers- this is the only chance for me to get you out of here… We should hurry."

The girl faintly nodded and with that Phoebus slid a key in the locker of the cell's door and unlocked it. He looked once again at the dark end of the corridor before opening the door and making a quick gesture for the gypsy to come out. She silently obeyed, but as she approached him she felt somewhat guilty.

"Phoebus," she started, "I am sorry… I should have thanked you earlier for all the risk you are taking for me."

The soldier smiled warmly, assuring her that she was forgiven. His hand lifted and reached for her face, as she let him caress her cheek in an affectionate manner. His fingers slid to her lips, as he closed the distance between them, ready to seal her gratitude with a kiss, but her arm gently took his and pulled it off her face.

"Thank you," she repeated softly, staring him back with her big emerald and full of misery eyes, which made the soldier immediately to feel guilty for permitting himself even that much.

The captain knew more than well that it was neither the time nor the place for him to insist any further on his affections for her, which he was more than certain she would gladly accept once she had her senses back.

He nodded faintly at her as he gestured towards one of the corridors and started to lead the way. Esmeralda followed him obediently, as after he was obligated to leave the torch behind them so not to be seen, they both started a long passage through the cold and dark dungeons of Paris.

It was like a labyrinth, which by all means reminded the gypsy of her own gloomy and bitter mind- with no light, impersonal, confusing, and abandoned all hope. Instead of going up the captain kept leading her downer and downer, in smaller tunnels, which were becoming colder, dirtier, and more uneven. Her eyes were completely blind and she was forced to grope her way by the sense of the cold stones and the dampened moist all over the walls. The way was often uneven, rocky, and even at some times flooded with freezing water and mud. She could hardly see the captain before her and even a couple of times she had in whispers to call for him in order to know where he was.

"Wait," Esmeralda sighed after they had been walking for over an hour in that manner. "I can't… I can't do it anymore…" she breathed heavily out of air, "I am too weak and exhausted to continue a step further."

With that the girl collapsed her body at the wall behind her, barely holding herself on her legs. At this moment full of coldness, feebleness, and despair she felt the soldier's strong arms supporting her entire body.

"I can't," she cried out, refusing to continue walking.

"Of course you can, Esmeralda," the soft and sympathizing voice of the captain was heard somewhere next to her ear. "I am sorry, but there's no other way… that's the only corridor that has no cells and it's therefore no guarded. But any moment they might discover you missing and here we'll be easily found… We better go now."

Esmeralda shook her head, barely managing to stay on her feet. She was out of any possible exhaustion, as she had simply spent the last several hours without any sleep or food, with only a cheap rag to keep her from cold and with the only company of misery and despair.

Phoebus wrapped his hands firmer around the wretched creature, trying to get her steady to continue walking. But the gypsy was as lean as a rake in his strong and comfortingly warm arms. She put her icy fingers on his hands.

"Jesus, but you are freezing," the soldier exclaimed still whisperings, as he took off his clock and wrapped it around the gypsy.

Esmeralda let herself completely at his doings- his hands wondered all over her back, arms, and shoulders, as he rubbed her tenderly, creating warm friction over her numb skin.

"Why are you so kind to me," she asked softly after some quite moments.

"You know why," the captain responded gently, stopping his hands at her arms: "Because I love you."

It was dark enough so that they could not see each other, but the gypsy was sure Phoebus had fixed his eyes in a search for hers. For a second or two his words just passed through her without meaning anything, but then suddenly she felt her eyes burning with hot tears. She burst into a soft cry not helping herself any longer.

The warm fingers of the captain grope their way to her face, as they wiped away the moist from her cheeks and drew her head to rest at his broad chest.

"Hush, hush now…" the girl heard somewhere above her in a warm and reassuring voice.

Phoebus rested his chin in her hairs as he wrapped her and drove her entirely in his warm embrace. Tightly pressed in his muscular body which radiated as if pure warmth for her frozen limbs the girl just now realized that the captain was not wearing his armor but instead civilian clothes.

"Everything will be alright," he continued in a soothing voice, "just trust me."

The gypsy softly pushed herself off his chest, as she leaned back on the cold wall and her tears started to shed anew. The captain followed her motion, as he circled her face with both of his hands and wiped again her moistened cheeks.

"Esmeralda," the soldier whispered close to her head, "don't you trust me?"

"I do trust you," the gypsy responded miserably. "That's the problem."

For a moment the captain stared in front of him blindly, but then his head leaned to one of his hands, and as he moved it off the gypsy's face he placed a soft kiss over her cheek.

"Hush…hush," he whispered soothingly in her ear, as he placed another tender kiss somewhere on her neck; then another on her shoulder, collarbone, and another, and another…

Esmeralda left herself to be caressed lovingly by the dear affections of the soldier as she closed her eyes and tried to forget all the coldness that were surrounding them. She needed this; she needed the sense of warmth over her skin, the sense of hope, comfort, and understanding. In the damp, cold, and harsh dungeons the gypsy realized that she needed nothing but her sun.

Her hands found his soft hair and as she grabbed his head she lifted it from her shoulders and directed it to her face. Face to face again, she rested her forehead upon his, rubbing herself tenderly on his cheek and nose. Her tears were not yet dry and she had not stop to shed them as well, so all the hot dampness on her skin glued their cheeks in pleasant warmth. Her face rubbed onto his, as if in a trance she sensed the pleasant scratching feeling of his beard over her wet chin. She lowered her head, as now she could feel with her cheek and lips that hers were at the corner of his mouth. She paused as if not ready to do the final shift and seal whatever was going between them.

Phoebus made the final decision for her, as he found her lips and pressed his firmly to hers. Her fingers ran through his hair as she barely opened her mouth and tasted the warm moist around his lips. Her mouth remained open as she traced it down to his downer lip, where she made a small affectionate kiss. The gypsy's frozen fingers spread along his warm cheek, as she drove them down to his beard and mouth. She made another small kiss on his chin, then back on his lip as she finally opened her mouth and let their tongues tangle in the warm and pleasantly moist sensation.

Without bread Esmeralda pulled back, resting once again her forehead onto his face. They both breathed heavily, but as the soldier tried to make another deep kiss, the gypsy put her finger on his mouth, preventing him to search for her lips. She did say nothing; she did not move away from him, neither towards him, as she found herself uncertain of her own emotions.

"We should better go," Phoebus said after nothing had happened between them for some time.

Somewhere in the darkness he sensed the gypsy nodding shortly in agreement, and then he took her by the hand and led the way again.

_**ESMERALDA**_ did not know any longer how much it had been since they were walking through the small tunnels. Her body, all frozen up and numb, was mechanically following the captain, who was pulling her by the hand, while her mind in waves was either wildly thinking through everything that was worrying her or it was completely blank. Nevertheless, suddenly she realized that her eyes were becoming slowly to see through the darkness around them and after a turn in the underground tunnel she found herself entering a significantly larger and brighter space.

The gypsy, completely stunt and blinded by the light, continued advancing more in the new tunnel and she suddenly startled herself as a hand pulled her back.

"Quiet," the captain whispered.

With a gesture he drew the attention of the girl down in her feet. Just a few inches away was a poor and muddy edge, serving to separate the water from the dry ground. The end of the tunnel was not far from where the gypsy and the soldier were standing, as it resembled a small and probably barely noticeable from outside entrance of a cave. However, even that small entrance seemed as something big, which gives significantly large amount of light for the gypsy, who was recently seeing only dark.

"These tunnels were made to be used in wartime," Phoebus started to explain in whispers. "The way that we followed leads outside the city and it's fairly forgotten which is perfect for the occasion. The exit is not blocked, however I do believe there's still orders to put a guard on it… but I don't think he will be a problem."

The girl nodded, not completely understanding what he means by _won't be a problem_. Phoebus gestured the gypsy to follow him and they both walked very cautiously and quietly on the edge of the waterside, approaching more and more the bright exit. Suddenly the captain heard upcoming noises from outside and hurried to close his back to the wall as his arm urged the gypsy to do the same.

Esmeralda, too exhausted and numbed for the outside sensations, had not heard anything and she was ready to ask the soldier what it was when he abruptly turned to her and put his hand on her mouth. He lifted his other hand to his lips and as he placed his finger on them he gestured her to be quiet.

Not long after that the noises were loud enough to be clearly heard by both of them. It was noises of armors, walks, horses, and even more distinguishably a conversation between familiar voices:

"… and despite the rumors of Paris, I must admit that I am quite impressed by how you are managing the king's city."

"I am most honored to hear it, Monsieur Olivier," a cold and pretentious voice responded, as the gypsy with an ill heart recognized the minister, making her tremble still in the hands of the captain. "Now by your words am I to believe that you would report to His Majesty the unsubstantiated nature of those rumors against Paris?"

"All in its good time, minister," the messenger drawled in his greasy tone. "Shall I remind you so soon why we have come here?"

"That would be needless," Frollo replied dryly.

Phoebus looked accusingly at the gypsy girl, senselessly piercing her with a look of "I told you so." At the miserable state that the girl was at this reproaching glance was exaggerated triple, making her helplessly bend under the enormous pressure of a blame that was not even hers.

The captain did not wait any longer; for him the situation was more than clear- they have found somehow about the escape plan and now the minister was personally waiting to show the king's delegate the execution of the two criminals. Phoebus was not mad at Esmeralda, how could he, but now he wanted nothing more than just to make her realize no matter at what coast that her foolish feelings towards the selfish judge were out of any rational sense.

Nevertheless, that was not at first importance now. Now he needed to figure a way to save her again; to save her both from the gallows and the cold embrace of the minister- honestly the captain was at lost which destiny he would rather have for the gypsy.

Phoebus took her by the hand and very cautiously led her back, returning into the darkness of the tunnels. The girl followed hollowly as if she was nothing but a senseless corpse. They had just turned to the smaller passage from where they had emerged, when Phoebus saw a light buried somewhere in the fogs of darkness. He squeezed painfully Esmeralda's wrist, making her jump automatically from the pain and to be forced to clutch him in order to save her balance.

The soldier harshly put his hand on her mouth, as he embraced her with his other arm and drew her very close to him.

"They're coming," he whispered into her ear, his warm breath strongly contrasting with her ice-cold skin.

Without any other warnings he pushed her back to the nearest wall, immediately joining his body to hers. She sighed without a breath; her eyes were blind, her mind empty, her limbs frozen, and all that she could register at this critical moment were only the sharp angular and uncomfortable points on her body which were rubbing against the hard bones of the captain's sturdy figure.

His legs and arms were moving, as if he was searching for something but at the same time unable to move neither from the wall nor from the gypsy, which was between him and the rocks.

The lights were approaching and Phoebus had no time to be indecisive right now. One of his legs found a hollow space a little bit aside of them and without any explanation he pushed the delicate structure of the exhausted girl down in his feet and without any effort at all aside to the founded empty space.

Esmeralda, completely numb and incomprehensive, let herself in the firm and somewhat careless hands of the captain, who pushed her even harder towards the wall's hollow.

"Be silent," he said breathlessly as he separated from the wall and the girl was not able to sense him anymore.

Esmeralda's eyes were wide opened, and yet she could not see anything, even though she was now more than clearly hearing approaching from inside the tunnel steps of armors.

"Who's there," a rough, husky, and terrifying voice barked from somewhere behind her.

The irregularities of the rock wall were hiding her from the guards' vision, who had approached from inside the tunnel, however she could not see them either.

"It's Captain Phoebus," her savior responded with as stern and decisive voice as his exhaustion aloud it.

"Captain," the same husky voice barked back in confusion. "By my fay, what are you doing here?"

"What the devil it looks like," Phoebus reproached. "Instead of asking stupid questions why don't you say whether you have found someone?"

"You mean the escaped prisoner," the guard asked, lifting his torch to light better the captain's features. Luckily, Phoebus was good at fooling people about his competence of understanding, and by the captain's expression there was no doubt for the guard that he would better answer before his superior. "Yes,… I mean no, sir. We were ordered to track this tunnel to its end; however the gypsy girl was nowhere to be seen."

"Do you know how she had escaped?"

"No, captain, there were guards all of the time. She must have had some help from an insider, there's no other way, I'm telling you."

"Alright then, finish the rest of the tunnel to the outside and I will follow it back in case you have missed something," the captain commanded, hoping that the guards will go away before the others have joined them.

The soldier with whom he was conversing nodded in compliance, however another one emerged:

"If you don't mind me ask, sir, from where are you coming?"

The captain tried as best as he could to put an irritating face as he replied harshly:

"From where the devil you think I've come? I was with the soldiers outside searching the region for the missing prisoner. May be if you stop with this nagging interrogation we can go back to work and find the criminal, can't we!"

The guards did not move. Instead their attentions were now directed to the captain's wet and muddy clothing.

"What now!"

"If you have been outside, sir, why your clothes are soaked with the tunnel's dirt and why are you walking why don't you have any light with you?"

"What," the captain succeeded to produce, unable to collect his thoughts in any other way.

A silence followed, which made pretty clear to Phoebus that there was no hope for escape now.

"I think you should better go with us outside, sir," the guard with rough voice said in a threatening tone.

Phoebus was caught and he knew it. He looked numbly at the mud in their feet. Two soldiers approached him from the side, ready to capture him if he shows any resistance. The captain vaguely looked at the hollow spot behind, towards which he had pushed the gypsy- his mission was not a complete failure, there was still hope. He lifted his head and looked the guard straight in his fiery by the light eyes:

"Fine," he said in a daring spite, "let's go outside."

"_**CAPTAIN PHOEBUS**_, why I am not surprised to see you here," the lethargic voice of Olivier drawled with an evil smile as the captured man was escorted by the guards outside the tunnel.

Cold water was running in his feet and the daylight rushed sharply into his eyes, making the captain close them defenselessly. It took him a few seconds to adapt to the rather brighter and noisier surrounding than the one in the dark passageways.

Phoebus looked around, noticing more and more soldiers in their grey and black armors, as his eyes searched from where he had just heard the mocking words.

The minister and the king's delegate emerged before the captain, slowly coming from somewhere above them, as few soldiers were following them in a very formal fashion. All the dark figures stopped a few steps away from the newly captured prisoner, as all over the face of Olivier was spilled an insidious smile and the judge's features were showing nothing more than coldness and disgusted superiority.

The delegate first addressed the soldiers that had taken the captain outside, as he asked them if they had found anyone else in the tunnels, and after receiving a negative response he turned back to Phoebus.

"Would you mind telling us what were you doing in the tunnels, captain," the delegate continued after a second of silence, as he seemed to place himself completely comfortably into the position of authority.

"Don't you know already," Phoebus talked back with enormous spite and unhidden desire to end this man.

Olivier smirked greasily:

"Humor me," he hissed commandingly.

"I have nothing to tell to you."

The delegate's expression turned into even greater malicious amusement:

"I wonder, captain, how your wife would react if we tell her that we have found you among the filth and vermin in the middle of nowhere, helping a gypsy woman escape."

"You'll never find her," Phoebus burst out in a tone that sounded more as a threat.

The king's messenger laughed loudly.

"Well, is that not interesting- you worry more about her fate than your own. By my faith, captain, that fortune-teller had gotten you chin-deep into her sorcery!"

The captain's eyes involuntary moved to the still-unchanged-austere face of the minister and then back to Olivier.

"I swear to you, if you touch her only with a finger…"

"Oh, captain, in your condition won't you agree that threats are rather pointless," the delegate interrupted with an evil pleasure. "I got to remark though that I admire your blind will to protect her. I am not sure whether if it is foolishness or naivety that so urges you to be her guardian, but I can assure you a beautiful witch like her has been already touched with more than just a finger. Why do you think you are taken differently than just another consecutive fool that had enmeshed in her web of sin?"

"Bark all that you want, your words can't take her from me," the captain spat in rage, suddenly overwhelmed with a need to defend an honor, which he was not sure to whom it belonged.

"Enough," Frollo interrupted in a cold austerity, preventing Olivier to talk back with his greasy smile. "Guard, where did you find him," the minister addressed the soldier on the right of the captain.

"At the last turn before the exit, sir," the man replied, as the judge did not wait him to finish before he ordered to the soldiers in front of him:

"Go back at once and search the entire area, looking for possible places where she could be hiding, I will assure you she won't be far from her _protector_." A few of the guards nodded and separated from the others to go back in the tunnel. Frollo turned to the captain and stated in supercilious hatred: "Perhaps Monsignor Olivier's words _can't take her from you_ but I can guarantee you that the pyre can!"

"_**OH, AT LAST**_, the witch in question is here," the delegate mocked in disdainful laughter as not long after the guards had gone into the tunnel they returned with the wretched creature, firmly secured by soldiers on both sides.

The girl was with a face pointed down and buried in dark locks of hair, as her body was completely hanged onto the dragging her soldiers. Her hands automatically covered her eyes as the pain from the light hit her mercilessly.

"Esmeralda," the captain murmured without thinking as he tried to run to her, but by one gesture of the minister the soldier was down on his knees and hands, harshly restrained by his former people.

"We found her crouched on the ground near one of the rocks not far from where we captured the captain, just as you said, sir," one of the soldiers reported as the poor girl's body was thrown in the feet of the minister.

The déjà-vu situation made shivers run though the minister's spine, however now was different than a few days earlier. Now not the fate, but him had decided to return her back into the mortal danger and without really knowing the reason for it Frollo had made this decision without any regrets.

The girl lifted her head, and the minister observed her hollow, exhausted and completely tormented features as he felt nothing more than cold emptiness to fill his entire essence.

"Indeed, minister, I must remark that you have done an excellent work with her in the torture room," Olivier sneered in delighted malice, attributing the obvious physical suffering of the gypsy completely to the never-happened torture.

"We should better go back into the city," Frollo stated to no one in particular, as he then addressed the soldier, however his eyes remained coldly to look down the girl: "Drive back to the Palace of Justice, return her into her cell and make sure this time she stays there!"

"Yes, sir. And the captain?"

The minister glanced disgusted to the still restricted and kneeling soldier.

"Put him into some of the lower levels of the dungeons, I shall deal with him later. Go now."

As the soldiers started to retreat Frollo urged, without any words, the king's delegate to get into his carriage and follow them. Immediately after that the minister mounted his black horse and spurred it faster down the dusty road.

"_**BEGONE NOW**_, when I am done you may return to your post," was heard somewhere along the dark stoned corridor, as the metal door was shattered loudly behind the sound of fading away steps.

Esmeralda was back in the dungeons, in the same cell where not more than a day ago she had continuously shed tears for the man that had today doomed her for a second time to death. It had passed several hours since she had been captured and returned back between those cold walls of despair. It was dark and it was probably passing midnight. It seemed that no one else but her was imprisoned on this level of the dungeon so besides the guard who was on post on the other end of the corridor she was completely alone and in isolation.

The gypsy was neither sleeping, nor crying. Since they have captured her and returned her back in here she was in complete numb and apathetic state, somewhere between the dream and the reality, which was all that she was capable at this moment. Her head felt as if torn apart, her muscles- beaten, her lungs- full of cold hollow nothingness, and her heart utterly broken and squashed. She could no longer feel hatred or love; and even if somewhere within her she was more than worried about Phoebus for bringing him down with her, she could not in any way process or express those emotions.

Steps of approaching were heard louder and louder, as a torch of fire was playfully lightening and creating creeping shadows all over the stones. She could not see anyone yet, but she knew who it was and that just made the knot of her stomach to tighten even more with pain.

The torch was placed just outside her cell as a key was inserted into the locker and soon her prison was opened. She was sitting down the floor, with skirt and arms all over her legs and feet in an attempt to keep her warm, as she did not make the effort even to look towards the opened door.

"Get up," the minister's voice commanded in a calm manner. She obeyed mechanically and lifelessly. "Turn," she did, "look at me," her red from exhaustion big eyes looked blindly at Frollo.

His dark view was moving all over her, but for a long time there was nothing more than a silence between them.

"A king's delegate have traveled all the way to Paris because of rumors that I do not manage the city strictly enough," the minister suddenly started with a bitter and yet monotonously informative voice. "On the day the soldiers captured you and brought you to me he was there as well and he has made your execution his personal fixation."

"Another you, no doubt!"

"Don't interrupt me," the minister scolded in the same monotonously calm voice. "In the morning of the day you escaped a soldier had come and found the delegate instead of me so he had reported to him that his captain had acted suspiciously asking around about old and forgotten underground tunnels. I did not have choice but to connect that lead with your escape."

Another long silence followed.

"The reason for your visit is not to relieve your guilty conscious, is it," the gypsy asked in apathy.

"No," the judge said after a pause and after another one he started in lower, trembling with some suppressed tension voice: "After I let you go," he paused again, "after that did you let him touch you."

"Who are you talking about," Esmeralda said in confused and yet purposely denying to understand tone.

Frollo's eyes narrowed, as he looked aside and scarcely bit his downer lip.

All of a sudden, he swooped upon her, rushing and pinning her with all his rage on the hard stones behind her. His hand snatched her jaw, forcing her to lift painfully her head up and look into his eyes right above her. She cried out of pain, but his grip quickly silenced her yell.

"You damn know who I mean," he shouted lost in mindless jealousy and fury. "Answer me! Did this rat creep between your legs? Did he?"

Esmeralda was in utter shock, completely inadequate and incapable of comprehension of what was happening. Her entire back was swiping the moistened stones, and the thin rag of dress did even poorer to protect her from the freezing cold behind her. Frollo was pressing her with his entire body, however there wasn't left even a single sign of his former lust, but instead pure violence and madness was only seen in his dark shining with jealousy eyes. His head was bent over hers- locked closely into each another. His bony fingers were snatching her chin and cheeks stronger than a vise, and his angular arm, from her jaw down to her stomach, was pushing into her flesh mercilessly.

"Answer me, you bitch!" he yelled once again as he shook her. "Did he? Did he shove his dick in you; did he fuck you like one of his whores; did he fill you with his abominable filth? Did he!"

The gypsy was more than weak, and yet somehow she succeeded to push him off her. He let her to push him, he expected it; however the flushed with red from the aroused emotions girl did not stop with this. Esmeralda's hand raised and slapped him as strong as she can, making his head turn aside from the force of the hit.

Frollo's fists clenched and his teeth gnashed in great effort to stop himself from acting any further. His face turned back towards the gypsy, as his blazing eyes pierced hers. His chest was rising and falling very fast, as his lungs were trying to compensate for all the lost air while he had madly shouted just seconds ago at her. His dry mouth was half-opened and he was taking in large breathes; his grey hair was falling in disorder; and his skin was white as one of a corpse.

Their gazes were locked in tension of great hatred, and yet wishing to express all the other emotions, which their minds and lips were not permitting them to confess. Minute after minute was elapsing in complete silent screams.

"He did," Esmeralda finally said in a quite but clear voice.

Frollo did not change in any way.

"After you let me go I went to him," the gypsy continued after a short pause, "and he fucked me in ways you can't even start to imagine. Then and only then I have known true pleasure."

Esmeralda's eyes were wet, but she was not crying. What was she doing? Was she dooming as well Phoebus to death? Why at all she was saying these things? She did not know, the only thing she was certain was that she can care for no one anymore and no matter what it would happen to her she wanted to hurt the minister as much as she could; she wished she had never said that she loved him…

The gypsy's eyes moved blindly around the room and back to his, as she shook very faintly her head.

"You are not even half the man he is- at least he tried to save me, and all that you have ever done for me was to _creep like a filthy rat between my legs_."

Frollo listened to her completely motionless and wordless. There was no more the spark of rage in his eyes, but instead his look had become dark and austere. His lips were transformed into a bitter disgust as he watched her intently. Both were silent for a while.

"I was wrong to feel guilt about your execution," the minister finally spoke up. "After all, tomorrow would be burned nothing more but a whore."

Frollo left the cell, locked it, took the torch from the wall stand and gradually disappeared taking the light away from the view of the gypsy.


	23. Diligence

**A/N:** It's been so long since my last update! I am really sorry for this, every time I end a chapter I am so excited to start a new one and then I got buisy in all kinds of other stuff.

Anyway, I want to thank for the lovely reviews, they really motivate me to continue writing.

Warning: For this chapter I just want to warn for adult content in the sense of human brutality, death, etc.

Please enjoy and I will love reviews.

* * *

**Diligence**

"_**BLESS ME**_**,** Father, for I have sinned."

"When was the last time of your confession," the Archdeacon of Notre Dame Cathedral asked in a monotonous voice.

For a second, Frollo remained completely silent, staring at the dark empty space before him in the small confession.

"It's been a long time since I have been true to God or myself," the judge finally muttered, his words drawling in a doomed, bitter tone.

"It is never too late to ask for forgiveness Our Lord, please continue," the priest had to urge him as a few seconds had elapsed in silence.

"I have lusted to a pagan," the minister started, not separating his blank, somber, and austere eyes to whatever empty point was before him. His voice was calm and yet it was overwhelmed with a morose and fatal note of profound hopelessness. "The moment my eyes laid upon that creature the devil blackened my heart and soul, making them utterly hers. Since then my thoughts knew no rest, and yet all my essence seemed to be falling in a den of dark stupor. How I was not to have doubts that this was the work of a witch?"

Frollo's eyes shifted barely to the little lattice, as if looking for any sign of agreement from the priest. The Archdeacon remained silent, as the minister's view dimmed again.

"I had her," Frollo confessed in a grave, freezing tone after a brief moment of silence. "She was mine, Father… she was mine as heathen as she is, without the blessing of Our Father, without any lawful union between us, without… I made her mine without her even consenting to it." The minister, overwhelmed with rising emotions, paused for a second, sighing bitterly several times, as his lips barely transformed in a pitiful smile. "My pathway to Hell was covered with bliss…; I was drowning in the most profane and base forms of pleasure; I clearly knew that such shameful and throbbing waves of delightful extremes are never meant for a righteous soul. Nevertheless, once I had experienced them, I wished them present with me for eternity. I was not even once remorseful; I knew that the carnal joys I was taking for myself were for the perdition of my soul; but despite of the cost, like a blind man walking straight to a cliff, I was yearning for and doing the abominable acts over and over again.

"Above all, I enjoyed her struggles. When she was first mine I enjoyed her fighting me, begging me, pleading me to stop… Imagine my surprise when I realized that from the two of us it was she who was more innocent in this than I have ever been… But nevertheless, touched or untouched, she was a daughter of evil, fire and temptation. To conquer her over and over again was the least I could do. From the moment I saw her I was her slave; she possessed my entire essence and was not planning to give it back to me. When I was hurting her; when I was forcing her to pleasure me; when I was seeing the torment in her wet eyes- these were the only ways to make her feel half of the tortures she was putting me through. There is no greater evil than the one to have power over the master of your soul… If only she knew that I would do everything for her only by asking me so; if only things were different… She was most certainly a devil's creature who was forcing me to sin, but the fact that she was unwilling to the things I did to her gave at least a little justice in my mind. I was going to go to Hell because of her, so she too deserves to experience Hell itself…

"That was what I believed, what I still believe in. However, I don't know when, but in the time I spent with her something have changed. I no longer hate her for the feelings she is arousing in me and I no longer wish to cause her harm; I have realized that I… I have forgiven her…"

Frollo relaxed his back on the wall behind him.

"Father, I don't want her to die today."

The Archdeacon was attentively listening to the minister's confession. Even though the judge had always perceived himself as a good catholic he was rarely sincere in his confessions. However, now was different; now he seemed truly confused and unease in his moral decisions.

"Then you know what needs to be done," the priest returned in a hoarse voice, wordless for all the other reproachful feelings that the confession of the penitent brought in him.

"I cannot…" Frollo started, showing both pain and severity in his tone, "If I pardon her my reputation would be harmed, and this time the king will make sure that my successor is brutal enough to burn the whole city without any hesitation. In both cases her fate will be no different than death."

There was some truth in the minister's words and the priest knew it more than well that the gypsy's earth life was beyond any saving.

"Then all is in the hands of Our Lord; what is left for you is to ask for forgiveness, to be repentant, and perhaps your humble prayers will open the gates of heaven for the poor child…"

"No," the minister interrupted resolutely, "I am giving her neither to God nor to Hell… I am not ready to let her go, not just yet…"

"But you alone said that there is nothing else to do- an innocent life is to be sacrificed for the greater good."

The minister's fists clenched:

"I will slaughter the entire city if only I knew that this would safe her. I don't care anymore about her innocence or about her guilt; I don't care what she is, I just want her saved."

The priest did not return anything. They were both silent for a while as the morning bells of Notre Dame Cathedral started ringing.

Frollo's thoughts suddenly drifted to the night when he had murdered Quasimodo's mother. How resolute and certain he was in his actions then; were really things so much different now? He had been always looking after only his own good, why now ought to be different?

"You are right, Father, an innocent should die," the minister murmured barely heard, as he crossed himself: "Mary, please forgive me for what I am about to do."

Without any more explanations Frollo stood up and left the confessional.

"Wait," the priest hurried to say after he had realized what had just happened. He followed the minister outside of the confession room. "What are you planning to do, Frollo?"

The minister turned to the Archdeacon, as he drawled in a sinister voice:

"I believe that is confidential, is it not?"

"God won't forgive you if you harm any more innocent people."

The judge bitterly sneered:

"After everything I confessed to you, won't you agree that I am a little late for redemption?"

Frollo headed to the stairs of the Cathedral's tower without waiting for response.

"_**MINISTER FROLLO**_, isn't it a little early for confession," the sleazy voice of the king's messenger stopped the minister before he had started heading to the tower. He turned towards the approaching him delegate, who had apparently overseen him coming out of the confession room.

"God can hear a penitent at any time," the judge replied in a pretentious tone.

"But of course," Olivier grinned emptily. There was something infinitely irritating in this man to the minister (aside from the inconvenient situations the delegate's job was putting Frollo in) however the etiquette was not allowing him to leave. The messenger continued after a pause: "And I, myself, decided to come and see the greatest Cathedral in Paris with my own eyes."

"Indeed, it would be pity to be in the city and not to come here," the minister agreed hollowly. "However, I must say I am surprised you have not done this earlier."

Olivier waved carelessly with his hand:

"I am afraid my duties to the king restrict at great deal my time spent in churches," he drawled indifferently.

"I am sorry to hear this," Frollo returned superiorly, as his opinion for the delegate got even lower.

The other man made the same uncaring wave, as he added:

"By the bye, marvelous bells, I could hear them even from the other side of the river."

"Yes, in truth, Monsignor Olivier, the bells of Notre Dame are one of its most beautiful treasures," Frollo agreed monotonously, wishing to end the conversation.

"You may think me crazy, minister, but I have heard indeed odd stories about a disfigured hell's servant who rings them and who nobody have ever seen."

"That would be Quasimodo, but I shall strongly advice you in general not to take to heart all the gossips that the commoners have to say."

"So he is not truly disfigured?"

"No, he is, but I will assure you that he is no more a servant of the devil than you or I am."

"How do you know so much about him, Minister?"

"I took him under my patronage after his mother has left him a foundling on the steps of this very cathedral."

"By my fay, I would certainly have never perceived you as a man willing to care for a child, let alone a crippled one."

"God works in mysterious ways, Monsignor Olivier; indeed crossing my pathway with this creature gave me a faithful servant," Frollo replied with an unusual sense of gratitude.

"You sound yourself pretty fond to the bell ringer."

"I am as much one can be fond to his subjects," the minister replied dryly. "If you excuse me now, I was just on my way of seeing him- his life of solitude does not bring him a lot of visitors, so I am sure he is expecting me."

"Yes, of course," Olivier nodded.

Frollo was about to go when he addressed again the delegate:

"But before I go, may I ask how is Paris treating you?"

"Very good, it is a marvelous city, indeed."

"Are my soldiers completely at your services?" Olivier responded positively, and the minister hurried to add: "I hope all this good impressions will not stay unknown to its Majesty the King, will they?"

"Certainly not," Olivier confirmed sleazily. "In fact, I am planning to take my leave from the city this very afternoon so I would be able to meet the king sooner."

"I am sorry to hear that you are leaving Paris," Frollo replied without even trying to fake the content in his voice.

"Indeed I will miss a lot of this place as well." Olivier's eyes darkened with spark, as he added: "but rest assure, I am not planning to leave anywhere before the end of today's execution."

"I would not have had it otherwise," the minister returned coldly. "As this is your last day in the city the least I can do is to make sure it would be a memorable one," Frollo drawled in barely detectable sinister note, as he smiled and nodded at the delegate before turning and leaving him behind.

**THE SKY** was grey, leaving occasionally rays of the sun to adore with golden lines the ends of the clouds, which resembled more a black smoke from fire than anything else. The day was on its way to leave, as the afternoon was almost gone. Usually this oppressive mood of the weather will as well spread as a weary poison all over the city; however something else had made the citizens of Paris uneasy at this time of the day. The Place de Grave was crowded with all classes of people, who conversed, yelled, pointed, cried and laughed lively. Such a total chaos of human emotions was happening only when there was a big celebration or execution, both of which took a central place before the Notre Dame Cathedral.

The day was not yet gone, but the whole square was lighted with hot burning torches as if foreshadowing the wretched fate of the miserable soul that was to be burned this afternoon. People's views and attentions were changing quickly at all kinds of directions as the main _attraction_ had not yet arrived. However, it is worth noting that a fairly big amount of the crowd shifted their interests to the side of several soldiers on horses, who were cutting into the crowd, and specifically a dark, central to the group figure on black horse.

Another soldier on foot approached the minister as the man bowed his head respectfully.

"Is everything ready," a cold, superior voice demanded.

"Yes, sir, we had some trouble sustaining the crowd, but everything is good now," the soldier replied.

"Where are the prisoners?"

"They have already left the Palace of Justice, so they must be here any minute, sir."

"Good, I want you to report me the minute they are here," Frollo commanded somewhat mechanically as he scanned blindly the crowd. "Now, where is Monsieur Olivier?"

"Right there, sir, we positioned him close to the pyre as you have ordered, please follow me."

The soldier lead the way with several other men who were pushing the multitude of people and making way to the minister, who was still on his horse, to pass though. Only when they were in the front of the crowd and had passed the guards, who were separating the mass from the actual center of attraction-the little wooden stage which was soon to be burning along with the condemned criminal- only then Frollo came down from his black horse. Seeing the king's delegate, the minister gestured a soldier to take hold of the animal's rein as he ordered him to keep the big horse there.

"Minister Frollo, I hope the execution is soon to begin," the sleazy voice of the messenger said after greeting the judge.

"Indeed, I believe it is," Frollo confirmed drily, as the soldier from earlier gestured him for the arrival of the prisoners. "I assure you, Monsieur Olivier, that you shall not remain disappointed from the way Paris executes the laws of justice."

"For the sake of everyone, I very much hope the same, minister," the half- mocking drawl of Olivier was almost completely lost at the sudden increase of cheering, crying, and cursing shouts that burst from the crowd.

Guards had made their way though the mass, as they emerged from the crowd holding and dragging along with them a delicate and tightened up figure of a completely crushed soul. The misery of the wretched girl brought up both pity and laughter in the merciless and hungry for entertainment crowd.

Frollo's solemn stare was captivated in the poorly covered with a white rag gypsy, as into his chest rushed tremendous jealousy and a wish to massacre all those undignified looks who were daring too to look at her exposed beauty. Suddenly Esmeralda's head, which by know had been pointing hopelessly down, lift up and her green eyes pierced straight at the minister. Frollo felt as his whole body shivered with cold waves, abruptly becoming numb, as his heart was hammering faster and faster at his ribs as if it would either burst or break his chest.

For a moment the minister was completely ignorant to everything that was happening around him; he forgot about the crowd, about the soldiers and the king's delegate; he forgot about the pyre, the execution and all the title and labels that they both carried; all of that was just a bitter taste, a black empty hole at the back of his mind, which paled before the hot, burning, yearning, and enormous desire to just hold her, to take her into his arms, to fall down to his knees and become an eternal slave to this emerald stare pierced so profoundly at his very soul.

"All is good, but should all those dirty beggars be as well present at the execution of their witch," Olivier's sleazy voice suddenly pulled the minister out of his torturous trance.

He looked around, realizing that Esmeralda had been already taken up and tightened around a pillar over a pile of woods; her dark volumes of curls were falling around her wet and shut down eyes; she was no longer looking at him.

"Please excuse me, Monsieur Olivier," Frollo started with an emotionless and cold voice, "I could not hear you from all those shouting of peasants."

"But that is precisely my point, minister, why have you allowed so many gypsies to be present at the execution?"

"Simple, Monsieur, even though I strongly stand behind my belief that all rumors against Paris' unproductive execution of the law is ungrounded, I find a rather useful wisdom that can be concluded from them- fear is never too much and if the gypsies have started feeling comfortable to practice their base and sinful ways in this city, so then today's events will very well serve them as a reminder to whom they truly ought to bow."

"Teach them a lesson by showing them how one of their witches burn, very clever, indeed," Olivier nodded sluggishly in approval.

"Speaking of a lesson that needs to be learned I almost to forget to deal with yet another criminal of the law. Please, monsieur, follow me, I promise you will take an interest in this one."

"But the execution is about to start," the messenger protested almost as a child who were to be taken home without having had any fun at the playground.

Frollo glanced at the pyre, where the gypsy was tightened up, two guards were standing by her side, and the Archdeacon was preaching something in Latin, preparing to hear her last confession.

"Before anything is to happen, the priest ought to finish the prayer, listen to whatever sins this wretched soul is willing to admit to him, and then a judge will read the law, her crimes and everything she has been found guilty in; I assure you, monsieur, with so many sins lying on this witch, you will not miss see her burn even if you were to be gone for an hour," the minister said with a sinister smirk. "Now if you will, please follow me."

The minister and Olivier circled the pyre, going somewhat behind the _scene_, and accompanied with several guards they crossed a rather smaller amount of the crowd arriving at two prison carriages and a dozen of soldiers. The first carriage was the one that the gypsy had been brought in, and the second was still locked. With one nod by Frollo, two soldiers went and unlocked it, bringing the struggling and in chains man from it to their two superiors.

"Captain Phoebus, or should I say _ex_-captain, why I am not surprised to see you like this, however I wonder what will your lawful wife say if she is to attend at you now" the drawling mock of Olivier spilled all over his monotonous tone.

"That is none of your business, you damned son of a …"

One of the soldiers hit heavily his elbow in Phoebus' ribs, making him exhale all his air and silenced with pain.

"I believe he had earned his privilege to sit at the front row of today's events, would you not agree, Monsieur," Frollo said in a superior and full of cold and disgust voice.

"Indeed Phoebus, this witch had trapped you well," the messenger started in ridicule, "You had everything- a promising career, wealth, a good Christian family- and you threw it all to save a common whore from the pyre. By my fay, what kind of man does that?"

Phoebus looked maliciously at the minister, whose grave expression was remaining untouched as a statue.

"A man who is not licentious and who is not afraid to say that he loves that _common whore_."

"Love," Olivier sneered, "but in truth this heathen has bewitched you body and soul."

"I am not the only one she has _bewitched_," the prisoner said glancing barely at the king's delegate and then locking his detesting eyes again with the minister's.

It was clear that Olivier was intrigued by the ex-captain's words, but the minister interrupted him before he had spoken:

"Of course you are not," Frollo said, completely imperturbably, "Surely, she has used and doomed many other men, and it is only with fire that a demon like her can ever be stopped."

The messenger smirked sleazily.

"Bastard!" Phoebus yelled, "Are you really going just to sit and watch her die? Are you really that heartless, have you no soul? It is you who is the true devil then, because you were the one who used…"

Phoebus was again interrupted by a sharp pain through the face, as this time not any of the soldiers, but Frollo smashed his fist into the prisoner's jaw. The guards had to grab him with both hands in order to sustain him from falling.

"Watch your tongue, Phoebus," the minister threatened, somewhere between the line of great superiority and a ready to burst detest. "Shall I still remind you that the fate of your miserable life depends on me?"

"You pathetic old fool," Phoebus produced, as he spilled big portions of dark blood on the ground, "What else can you do to me that you haven't already done? Am I really to expect mercy from a man who knows none, even to the ones who are innocent? You would even burn the Holy Mary herself if that will serve you…"

The prisoner exhaled heavily all the air from his lungs as he was hit brutally in the stomach. Phoebus' chained behind his back hands completely left his front exposed, as the minister punched him again, this time in his already sore ribs. The sudden overwhelming pain made the ex- captain collapse on his knees, as the two soldiers let hold of him and let him entirely on whatever support his weakened and hurt body could provide. Frollo lowered a little bit to his level as he punched him again and again on the same aching place on the one side of his body, making him squirm and curse breathlessly in pain.

"It is only in your benefit to know where your place is," the minister maliciously drawled as he finally stopped and withdrew a little bit from the now completely on the ground prisoner. Frollo made a gesture towards the two soldiers, who took him by the arms and abruptly and excruciatingly pulled him back on his feet. "Now you will watch your beloved whore burn; you will see her eaten by the hot tongues of hell and if I don't like even the way you look at me I promise you will suffer a fate far worse than any imaginable death or afterlife that there is. Are we clear?"

Phoebus did not respond. Frollo nodded to one of the soldiers, who hit him in the stomach.

"I asked you a question," the minister demanded.

The prisoner breathed heavily a few times before replying half hearted: "Yes, sir, I understand."

"Good," the minister replied in the usual cold superiority, "Do you see, Phoebus, it was not hard to think with your head for a change and act only when the time is right. Remember well this lesson; it may as well save your pitiful existence one day." Frollo addressed the two soldiers, who were holding him: "Take him to the very front of the pyre, I want him to see the face of his witch when she burns."

"… _the sentence is death by burning alive on the pyre._"

The minister turned to Olivier:

"I believe we are just in time for the execution. Please forgive my earlier burst to this traitor, I wish you have not witnessed it."

"On the contrary, minister, you did to him exactly what every scum like him deserves; from the moment I met the captain I knew he would turn against the king, but you showed him just where he belongs- on the ground with the other vermin."

"I am glad you approve, now if you will let us go back to the execution."

The messenger started to return, however he was stopped by Frollo.

"But are we not to go back where we were?"

"No, the smoke could be indeed sickening, I have a far better place where everything can be observed, please follow me," the judge drawled as accompanied by several soldiers they went to a risen above the ground, closed and even furnished with a few chairs platform, which offered a perfect view to the crowd, the pyre, and even to parts of the Notre Dame Cathedral.

_**ESMERALDA**_ watched apathetically the crowd before her. Everything seemed so distant, so unreal as if it was only a nightmare, which would end the moment she found strength to wake up. But there was none left within her; the gypsy was weak, exhausted, and beyond any will to fight for her existence. She refused to confess anything to the Archdeacon, leaving her eyes dully to stare at the wooden pile in her feet.

It was only when her sentence was announced and the hot burning torch of red fire was brought up on the wooden stage that the girl felt as if abruptly pushed into the cruel, brutal, and merciless reality of her final living moments. The crowd before her was laughing, crying, cursing, and cheering with all the excitement and agony that a mass could produce. Somewhere in the crowd Esmeralda thought she saw her friend Clopin, but he quickly disappeared from her uneasy look. Soldiers were circling the entire pyre and holding back all those gypsies and friends who have come here to protest against her execution.

The girl started wriggling desperately trying to escape the ropes, which had been pierced in her wrists. Was this really the end? Esmeralda scanned frantically the crowd, going again and again at the place where she had last seen Frollo. For parts of the second she saw a big, black horse, but the master of this fearsome animal was nowhere to be seen. And then, just before her, the chained, beaten, bleeding, and struggling image of Phoebus appeared. He was hold tightly by two soldiers, his hands were behind his back, his straight hair was falling in disorder all over his sweaty face, and his golden beard was adorned with dark blood.

"Esmeralda! _Esmeralda_…," the calling of her name rang in her numb ears, but was it the captain who was calling her or someone else from the multitude mass of chaos?

Her eyes wondered frantically again and again over the crowd, when she finally saw the dark figure, who sent all her suffering into a black stupor. Frollo was standing somewhere in the middle of the crowd, above it, on a podium, surrounded by soldiers and next to the man she was told was behind her unhappy fate. The minister's expression was fixed, superior, and impossible to read. She wanted to scream, to plead him, to cry out miserably, or to curse him in her last moments of life, but she had neither the voice nor the will to act in any way.

The feel of the hot fire thrown in her feet, snapped her out from the minister's grave eyes and she renewed her weak struggles and hopeless writhing. That was it, she was to be burned, she was to die today, it was going to be all over soon….

"_**I CAN'T**_ let her die, I can't!"

Quasimodo cried out uneasily to his stone friends. He had watched passively the whole unfolding of events from his bell tower, hoping as naively as the girl that some miraculous help will come. But nothing…

The hunchback clutched with all his strength the stones from the balcony, not separating his eyes from the gypsy. He had learned about her fate just hours earlier; the minister had come to him in that very morning and had told him everything about her execution. The news were too dreadful for the deformed bell- ringer; he had panicked, he had pleaded Frollo to do something, to pardon her, but it was all for nothing. His master had told him with indifference that there was nothing he could do and had warned him with all the menacing severity in his voice that if Quasimodo was to interfere a fatal end was awaiting both of them.

"I don't care, I have to do something, she is my friend," the hunchback objected to one of the immovable gargoyles. He rushed inside the room and looked hastily for a rope. "If I am to die for her having at least the slightest chance for survival then so be it…. Don't worry, I have a plan… Here, I will bring her here. There is a sanctuary in the churches; soldiers won't harm her in here… Frollo too, he won't dare to go against the Church."

Quasimodo had finally found a long and thick rope. He tight it briskly near the stone parapet and after circling it a couple of times around him he went to the edge of the tower and after repeating:

"I won't let her die, wish me luck friends," he jumped down, lightly and skillfully making every statue and stone of the cathedral serve him perfectly in his fast descend to the center of the Place the Grave.

_**THE CROWD**_ yelled, surprised and astonished as the hunchback seemed to have fallen right from the dimmed skies.

"What is that," Olivier's sleazy voice cried out.

"Quasimodo," Frollo clenched with rage through his teeth, as the bell- ringer swiftly took the half- conscious girl away from the pyre. "Guards," the minister shouted as heavily armed soldiers rushed to the center of action.

It was too late, the chaos had already burst. The distraction from the arriving of Quasimodo bewildered the circle of soldiers who were surrounding the pyre and gave a great opportunity to the inspired mass of gypsies to pierce through the circle.

Phoebus, who was just _waiting for the right time_, suddenly _freed his hands from the chains_ and taking the knife from one of his guards, quickly stabbed and ended the lives of both soldiers. He hurried to look to the pyre.

The pile of woods was fiercely burning, but the gypsy was no longer on it. Barely supporting her exhausted frame on the hunchback, who was at the same time pushing away the coming hordes of soldiers and holding to the rope, the gypsy looked frantically what had happened. Down was a total battle chaos, the soldiers were mercilessly slaughtering and crippling gypsies, who were fighting back with everything they could find. Almost automatically the girl looked back to the place where she had found Frollo, but she could not distinguish anything anymore.

"Hold on, Esmeralda," the bell- ringer produced breathlessly, as now soldiers were on the wooden platform and surrounding them from all directions.

He kicked an approaching one, and was fast enough to jump aside before another one was to cut him with his sword. It was hopeless, the circle was narrowing more and more, and he could neither escape nor fight them anymore. Another try to avoid a hit made him let go of the rope, and now it was only him and the half- conscious girl in his arm.

"Quasimodo," a familiar voice yelled from somewhere behind the hordes of soldiers.

The hunchback looked just in time to see the rising of the minister's black horse with Phoebus on it. The captain skillfully swiped with his sword the soldiers on the platform, making a small hole in the circle, which the hunchback quickly used to pass through with the gypsy.

"Take her," the deformed man yelled as he punched heavily a soldier who was trying to stop him.

"And you?"

"Don't think about me, just save her."

The exhausted and completely numb body of the gypsy was in a second lightly lifted and put on the horse in the strong and tensed embrace of the captain.

"You will be alright," Quasimodo smiled at the gypsy, who wished to thank him, but her eyes widened as a spear went though the chest of the hunchback.

"Quasimodo!" she yelled in shock, but the horde of soldiers, forced Phoebus to urge the horse to run away from the pyre. "No," Esmeralda cried out, feeling as everything before her was becoming darker and darker to the moment when she lost completely consciousness.

"_**YOU THREE**_ follow the traitor," Frollo ordered in severe rage, pointing to the soldier who reported him earlier and two other near him man. "I want him and the witch beheaded!"

The soldiers quickly ascended three horses and spurred them after the already disappearing from view black horse of the minister.

After the absence of Phoebus, the wounding of Quasimodo, and the arriving of yet more soldiers, it was just a matter of no more than a few minutes to seize the riot of the gypsies.

Frollo and Olivier went down to the pyre, as the square was now only filled with imprisoned and crippled gypsies, soldiers, and all kinds of death victims from the played- out event.

Quasimodo was down on the ground, bleeding, and held securely by several ropes and soldiers around him. The minister approached him with disgust.

"I gave you a sanctuary against the prejudice and sins in the world, and is that your way of showing me gratitude? By disobeying me?"

"You are wrong," Quasimodo said, coughing blood. "The only evil in the world are people like you."

The minister looked one of the soldiers who harshly kicked the hunchback as if he was nothing more but diseased dog. He cried out, feeling as more blood pumped out of his wound.

"Now, it is only for your good to answer my question- where the traitor took the gypsy- girl?"

"I won't tell you," Quasimodo said in great pain.

Frollo nodded to the soldiers, who kicked and punched him again and again.

"I won't… I won't… I wo…agh…"

"Answer me and I shall spare your life," Frollo said completely indifferently.

"I… I," The hunchback started, as he found enough strength to lift his head and look in the eyes his master. "I…don…'t know…" he finally said in complete exhaustion.

The minister's austere eyes stared at him without any pity.

"Behead him," he ordered coldly.

One of the soldiers swiftly took his sword out and after the miserable hunchback dropped his head down, unable to look anymore his heartless master, the sharp weapon abruptly separated once and for all the head from its deformed body.

The gruesome scene made Olivier back up from the minister a few steps behind, as the miserable and hideous head of the hunchback dropped just before their feet. Frollo watched completely impassionate as dark blood started spilling and adoring the stones around the beheaded, deformed body.

The king's messenger felt sick to his stomach, as he quickly pulled from one of his sleeves a white handkerchief and pressed it to his nose and mouth, still consumed in horror of the close approximation of what he had just witnessed. The minister just glanced at Olivier with the same superior austerity, as he turned and headed to the other mass of soldier and captured gypsy prisoners just aside of them. Olivier followed him somewhat reluctantly.

There was somewhere around a dozen imprisoned gypsies, as nearly that much were dead or had escaped. Frollo looked carefully each of them, seeing in their midst some women and even children. Clopin was not there.

"I shall ask you the same thing as I asked the hunchback, and any answer different from a location would result in fate similar to his," the minister coldly pronounced.

The wretched captives, lost any inspiration and bravery, started pleading and crying pathetically for their lives. Anyone could easily be struck by their miserable pleads. Frollo turned to the king's messenger, whose widened eyes could only be seen from the white handkerchief on his face.

"What say you, Monsieur, can the king's treasury afford yet more useless scum to rotten in the city's dungeons?"

Olivier, never seen such brutality from such a close approximation, was completely numb.

"Minister Frollo," an approaching soldier on a horse interrupted the tensed silence.

"What now," the judge asked in cold tone, as he observed the same soldier whom he had commanded earlier to follow and kill the gypsy and the captain descend from his horse. It was the same man who had given him a report before the execution had taken place.

"It's the ex- captain and the witch, sir, we followed them, but Phoebus killed the two other soldiers. He was going to escape into the forest outside the city, but the horse tripped and I succeeded in killing them both," the soldier said as he threw a bloody old back into the feet of his superiors. "I beheaded them as you ordered, sir."

Olivier, completely disgusted by the idea of more lifeless heads again back up a few steps.

"Good," the judge drawled untouched, as he looked impudently at the king's messenger. "Would you like to check for yourself the remains of the heathen and her bewitched traitor?"

"No, minister, the word of your soldier is good enough for me," Olivier coughed sickened.

Frollo barely smirked as he turned again to the soldier.

"And my horse?"

"I am sorry, sir, but the animal was too badly injured, I had to end its misery."

"I understand," Frollo said distracted as he looked again at the pale delegate and back to the miserable imprisoned gypsies.

"Kill them," the minister ordered to the soldiers, "Monsieur Olivier is right; the king's treasury is not to be spilled on yet more useless scum."

Cries and pleads burst out, as the sharp and already soaked with blood swords of the soldiers were pulled out and pierced into the hearts, the spines and the throats of the wretched captives.

The delegate, completely in shock, backed up more and more, as rivers of dark blood were spreading towards him. The view of the decapitated limbs and heads soaked in the flood of blood was far more than what the messenger was usually used to see.

Frollo watched coldly Olivier's terror, as his own feet were bathed in blood.

"I am terribly sorry that you had to witness such a chaos, Monsieur, but please do correct me if I am wrong in thinking that now you will rightly report to our Majesty the King that the rumors of me becoming soft to those heathens are completely wrong."

Olivier just nodded in agreement, as his eyes were still widely opened and locked into the dreadful scene of slaughter before him.

"Very well then," the minister continued. "Now I believe that we have taken enough of your time and if you do not leave at this very instant I am afraid you have to spend yet another night in the city, which I would be only honored to give you."

"No, minister," the delegate objected in a husky voice, desperately grabbing at the opportunity to have an excuse to leave the soaked in blood square, "I think it's time for me to leave now. Thank you for your hospitality and I will personally make sure that the king is aware of how seriously and strictly you follow his laws here."

"_**COME IN,"**_ Frollo ordered as a loud knocking was heard on his door.

The sun was already down and the sky was completely black. The day was already gone; the delegate had long ago left the city, the things had resumed their normal way, and now the minister had retrieved to his chambers after a long day of anxiety and dread.

"Minister Frollo, I have come to collect my money," a soldier said after entering the room. It was the same man who had earlier reported the death of Esmeralda and Phoebus.

Frollo reached to a rag purse on his desk and threw it to the soldier.

"Where are they now," the judge asked in a calm voice.

"They must have already arrived at the house in the woods, which you told me about."

A pause followed, as the judge looked through the window to the Notre Dame cathedral and back to the other man.

"And how is she?"

"The gypsy was unconscious by the time I reached them. I told the captain about your plan and he seemed willing to follow it. What else does he have, right?"

"Good," the minster resumed mechanically after another pause. "You did well, begone now."

The soldier was ready to go, but then hesitated and turned back to his superior.

"Sir, may I ask why you slaughtered so many people just to save the life of one gypsy?"

Frollo sighed, as he intensely clenched his fists and looked again towards the cathedral of Our Lady.


	24. Despair

_****_**A/N: **Has it already been a year? I don't think that "sorry" is enough to start apologizing to my fans... It has been a lot of time, but I have certainly not given up or forgotten how I wish the story to continue :) and I hope you too have not forgotten my story.

I just wanted to thank all the nice reviews and encourage people to continue write them, because even though I have not updated for so long, every time I see a new review I have found a time to sit down and write even a few paragraphs, so you are definitely helping my motivation ;p

I plan to write 2- 3 more chapters and bring everything to a satisfying ending (as much as endings can be called satisfying), but your feedback and your wishes will certainly be taken into consideration!

**Thank you again and please enjoy:**

* * *

**Despair**

_Raging Animals_

Phoebus was staring numbly at his feet. The hard chair that he was sitting on, the dusty wood beneath his feet and the coldness that was surrounding him were all well present at some level in his mind, but everything felt distant and irrelevant compared to whatever thoughts had taken his primer interest.

The ex-captain was well aware that neither he nor his frail beloved could possibly be safe at this place, but what other choice did he have? In his hands he was numbly playing with a rusty metal key, as his vision blurred and he tried to recall one more time why he had trusted the life of the gypsy entirely to the will of her persecutor. What game was the minister playing? Why had he made the entire scene on the Place de Grave and sacrificed so many innocent lives just to save this one? Of course Phoebus knew why and exactly that was troubling him.

His fingers stopped their automatic movement with the key between them, as he brought it closer to his vision and stared at the rusty old metal suddenly consumed into the moment it had became his possession.

_The prisoner exhaled heavily all the air from his lungs as he was hit brutally in the stomach. Phoebus' chained behind his back hands completely left his front exposed, as the minister punched him again, this time in his already sore ribs. The sudden overwhelming pain made the ex- captain collapse on his knees, as the two soldiers let hold of him and let him entirely on whatever support his weakened and hurt body could provide. Frollo lowered a little bit to his level as he punched him again and again on the same aching place on the one side of his body, making him squirm and curse breathlessly in pain._

When exactly was the time when Phoebus sensed the metal key in one of his hands was impossible to tell, but somewhere between the sharp beats upon his body the minister had managed to give him the opportunity for freedom.

Of course Frollo had not given him the key of his chains just of a good will; no, he wanted Phoebus to play his part in the sick plan the minister had for Esmeralda's escape. The judge killed so many people earlier that day just to save the life of a one and with no doubt the ex- captain knew that poor and wretched shall be that soul who had to wear such burden.

Phoebus looked at the unconscious gypsy that he had laid on a sofa opposite to him. She looked so exhausted and unease, and yet so innocent of all the evil that was haunting her.

"_Do you see, Phoebus, it was not hard to think with your head for a change and act only when the time is right. Remember well this lesson; it may as well save your pitiful existence one day." _

The blond guardian of the girl remembered the chaos that had begun when Quasimodo had come to her rescue, no doubt just another miserable puppet in Frollo's plan. It had been impossible for the hunchback to escape with all those soldiers around the pyre, but then Phoebus was certain that the minister had never planned for the bell- ringer to survive this… And that had been exactly the moment which the judge had been suggesting to Phoebus, the moment of chaos when he had to free himself and climb the black horse of the minister, which would have no trouble to run with both Esmeralda and him away from the view of the king's messenger.

Phoebus remembered galloping through the forest and holding tightly in his arms the fainted gypsy, while three soldiers had been chasing them. The girl and him were most certainly to be killed by the soldiers when suddenly one of them had pierced the other two with his sword. Amazed, the ex- captain had turned to see that from the three soldiers now only the killer of the two others was riding after them. It had not been long before the soldier had reached them and took hold of the black horse's bridle, making it stop. Instinctively, Phoebus had raised his sword to hit him, but as he had been exhausted, beaten, and already had put more than half of his energy in effort to hold the unconscious gypsy, the captain's sword had been easily blocked and taken from his hand.

"_I am not here to fight, but to help," the soldier had suddenly shouted out, at the same time blocking the captain from another attempt to attack him. The soldier had pushed him back, backed with his horse away from the escaped prisoners, leaving some time for Phoebus to realize what had happened._

"_Why," the ex- captain had finally asked idiotically after relaxing exhaustedly on the black horse. _

"_Minister's orders," the soldier answered briefly._

_Phoebus knitted his eyebrows, but what choice did he have?_

_About an hour later the unconscious gypsy and the blond captain, lead by the man who claimed to be their ally, had found themselves in front of a fairly big, wooden house in the middle of the forest._

"_This is the minister's hunting lodge," the newly made friend had declared with a dry voice to the prisoner, "you'll be safe here until the Minister arrives."_

"_That doesn't sound very safe to me," the captain had snorted out skeptically. _

_The other man had looked at him angrily under his furry eyebrows: "You made a quite a scene today and you should only thank God that he has sent you such a powerful ally as the minister- otherwise you both be dead by now."_

"_The one you call an "ally" put us in this mess in the first place." _

"_Minister's orders are for you to stay at this place until he can get to you; the army of the whole Paris is after you and with this lifeless girl in your arms my advice to you is to obey your savior," the soldier had barked as he had thrown the keys of the house to Phoebus and had gotten back on his horse. _

"_And what about you?" the captain had asked automatically._

"_I was paid to cover after you so that's what I'm going to do," the soldier had said dryly and had rode his horse back in the forest as he had gradually disappeared from Phoebus' eyes. _

_Now alone with the unconscious woman in one of his hands and in the other the bridles of the minister's black horse, the ex-captain had realized that he really had no other choice than to take refuge in his enemy's lodge. Tying the horse to a near tree Phoebus had taken Esmeralda in his arms and had entered the big and cold house. There he had laid the girl in the sofa he had seen in the living room and after that had collapsed in an opposite chair where he had been sitting ever since. _

Outside it was already dark. The blond ex-captain in his white and light prison shirt was freezing. Still seated motionless in the hard chair he had been staring for several minutes at the unconscious body opposite to him. She seemed so calm, so peaceful, so unworldly graceful in her sleep as if her soul had already left the ruthless and ugly life, leaving behind only a stunning shell… which however was not left without scars. Her dark skin was now pale and had long time ago lost the memories of the sun; her bare and tender feet were all dark and bruised; her raven hair was disheveled and freely falling all over her shoulders and was intensely contrasting with the red covers of the sofa the girl was lying on. Phoebus sighed heavily and rubbed his palms into his eyes as he looked at her again. It seemed so unreal- as if hell was slowly devouring a tortured angel and yet… the view in front of him was beyond anything that a man can bear. She seemed so fragile and weak, but even then her lifeless figure was still blessed with the voluptuous curves of desire which were all well offered to the view of the wretched soul who could not turn away. Her prison gown did so poor to cover her, the transparence of the white cloth revealed way more to the captain's eyes than he intended to see.

If he was to concentrate on one part of her body he could even see her skin through the dress; the ex-captain's eyes were wondering around her naked neck and collarbone. Involuntary his look slid downer to her breasts… to her erected from the cold nipples… he felt his body experiencing a different kind of weakness from his exhaustion. Her cloth was so transparent… the ex-captain's eyes continued to go further down, he could see every curve, every goose bump on her skin, every hair… Blanket! She must be freezing like this; he had to find her a blanket. More erected than he wished to admit Phoebus put all of his remaining strength to will his desires back in check and to finally stand up from the hard chair.

"_**DON'T…"**_ Esmeralda's lips barely opened, whispering the word with pleading helplessness.

She was coming into consciousness. Phoebus had just covered her body with a grey blanket, which he had found on a side, and was about to move his hands away from her when she spoke the begging command. He paused.

"Please… don't go," the girl said faintly as her eyes were still close, and the ex-captain couldn't say for sure whether she was conscious or burning up with fever. Nevertheless he didn't move. "Stay with me," she whispered again as her light hands landed on his shoulders and he was put to sit next to her side. Her eyes were still closed as her hands blindly reached to his neck and pulled his head to her forehead. "Do whatever you want with me… I give up, I am only yours…" she murmured almost without a voice, as she blindly sealed her lips to his.

The sense of a beard and the tingling ends of hair which fell on her face made her suddenly open her eyes and push the ex-captain away from her lips.

"Phoebus," she mumbled with a clearer voice than before. He looked at her puzzled, but before he could react to the sudden change in her mood she showered him with questions: "What happened? Where am I? Was I unconscious? For how long? What time is now…Where's… What happened?"

"It's alright, Esmeralda," the former soldier started out with a rather empty voice after he had realized that her tender pleads and promises weren't intended for him. "You should rest, you had a lot happening for one day… but we are safe now."

"They were going to burn me alive…" she thought aloud with an even voice as she was trying to trace back her last memories. "And you… you were imprisoned by… by Frollo."

"I was, but we both managed to escape," Phoebus spoke softly and reassuring. "You fainted… Quasimodo tried to rescue you and in the chaos I succeeded to free myself and got on a horse and took you with me," he summarized for her briefly the events, which he alone couldn't get out of his head ever since they had happened. However the ex-captain purposefully avoided the role of the minister in Esmeralda's rescue.

"Quasimodo… What happened to him, is he also here?"

Phoebus wished he had thought to avoid the mentioning of the hunchback as well. He was most certainly going to tell her all that had happened that day, but in Phoebus' opinion she was still too weak and emotional to correctly assess the situation.

"He is dead…" Esmeralda answered her own question as the words made her shiver with horror. She pushed the ex-captain gently away from her as she seated herself on the sofa. In an instant her green eyes were burning with hot tears as she stared at Phoebus' brown and sympathetic eyes. "A pierce went through his chest… I remember everything. I was to be burned when he came to my rescue, but there were too many soldiers. One stabbed him while he gave me to you… He was hurt because of me." The girl closed her eyes unable to look at the other man's expression. "Oh, please, Phoebus, please tell me he didn't die because of me."

"Esmeralda… he was deadly injured," the captain said softly- he didn't wish to hurt the gypsy, but he didn't wish to lie to her either. The girl sobbed out miserably as she started to cry. "I… I am sorry, Esmeralda," Phoebus said as he took her in his embrace and gently put her head on his chest.

_**SOME TIME**_ had elapsed as the girl was asking over and over again the same questions about the hunchback, her gypsy friends and the events that had lead them to the present situation. However she was careful to avoid asking direct questions for the minister and yet she was hopeful she could learn anything at all about him. Phoebus, on the other hand, was answering her questions getting more and more skillful at avoiding Frollo's part of Esmeralda's rescue.

"But where are we now," the girl suddenly asked, tearing away from the circle of repeated over and over again questions.

For that the ex-captain was not prepared… He softly looked her in the eyes as he slid a lock of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek tenderly.

"You had too much stress for one day, but you shouldn't worry anymore. From now on I will take care of you… We are safe here and nobody will ever think to search for you in this place- that's all you need to know."

Nobody will ever find her in this place… what if she wanted to be found? That was crazy and Esmeralda immediately scourged herself for ever letting the poisonous hope of seeing Frollo again in her thoughts… after all he was to blame for all the misfortunes and deaths which had happened today (_and she didn't even had the slightest clue what a slaughter he had done because of her_).

"Esmeralda…" the girl was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts by the ex-captain's voice. She looked at him more adequately: "You are too exhausted… You need a rest, a proper one. One of these doors over there should be the bedroom… You should get some good sleep…"

The girl just nodded as she lifted herself up and by the support of the insisting soldier she headed to one of the doors. Passing one of the windows she got a glimpse of the tied outside black horse of the minister and immediately froze as a statue.

"What's wrong?"

"His horse, Phoebus, this is…"

"Calm down, my darling," Phoebus said gently as he kissed her forehead, "he will never hurt you again, I promise you… This was the first horse that I could grab in the chaos earlier today- we fled to our freedom with this horse."

The ex-captain's words echoed in her mind again and again: _"He will never hurt you again…" "we fled to our freedom with this horse"- with Frollo's horse._

"You are too tired to think straight, you need some sleep," the ex-captain insisted again. Esmeralda just nodded and supported by the soldier she followed him to the bedroom.

**IT WAS ALREADY** passing midnight. The gypsy was soundly sleeping for two hours now on the bed where the captain had put her in. Phoebus, on the other hand, was restless, and no matter how great his exhaustion was he was feeling very strongly that he could not allow himself to fall sleep. He knew that he cannot allow the gypsy girl to stay here for long. Sooner or later she would learn to whom this house belonged and then there would be a whole new category of lies the ex- captain had to come up with. Or even worse- the minister might actually show up at the door to claim his prize and then who knows what would happen… No, the more time was elapsing, the more the captain was becoming sure that the girl should never learn about the help of her torturer. She was not on herself now, Phoebus could easily see that, she was hoping for him… No, the girl was confused, and now it was only up to the soldier to look after her best interests. He could easily imagine that… imagine them being together; imagine him caring for her; imagine her blindly trusting him…

Oh, how happy she would be with the soldier, after all, that was what she desired from the very beginning, and now Phoebus wanted it, too. He was no man of such strong devotions directed only towards one woman, he knew that more than well, but she was not just any woman. Phoebus wanted money, wanted glory and status, but now she was lying just in the room next to him. Beautiful as ever, a defenseless siren, a trusting enchantress, a needing him angel… Before he realized, Phoebus was at her door. His forehead and hands were pushing onto the wooden gate that was separating him from his desires. With great efforts he turned away as he pressed his back onto the door and collapsed on the floor just in front of the room she was sleeping in.

What was about that girl… that common gypsy who was only with her eyes bewitching such different characters of men… Phoebus knew that Frollo was obsessed about her; the soldier knew it as soon as the minister had ordered the captain to put all of his men in front of the cathedral to keep the gypsy in. That seemed like such a long time ago and yet the gypsy's spell hasn't worn out… Quasimodo, a disfigured bell- ringer who had never experienced any human affection, died just because that simple girl treated him as a human being rather than a monster. Minister Frollo, a stubborn and arrogant catholic who wished so badly to distinguish himself from the common people that he had practically refused any human needs, had suddenly turned into a libertine of lust when simply offered the site of the pretty maiden. But Phoebus was not like them… His handsome looks had never denied him the affections and the adorations of the common people and the bourgeois, and he, on his turn, had never denied himself all the enjoyment of the flesh that a loose moral as his could bring him. The captain could have any girl that his heart desired, and he had had them all… Blond and dark, innocent and corrupted, rich and poor… then why she was different? Why she was still stuck in his head even after he had had her? Even in his marriage, which was meant to save his reputation and status in the rich society, Phoebus had more than once allowed himself the enjoyments of a night away from the marital bed. Everyone was so easy to forget, but her…

Perhaps it was not her… perhaps it was the fact that he could not have her again, that she did not belong to him… He could see it in her eyes- she was damaged; the time she had spent with the minister had made her irreversibly broken… No matter what that man had done to her he had succeeded somehow to crouch and take deep roots into the girl's affections. She had been so innocent before she had said "yes" to that perverted man, and now all that was left of her was damaged…

Somewhere deep inside of him, Phoebus knew all that, and yet the only thought that seemed to persist in his mind was that he can fix her… he can make her forget about the existence of any other man but him. The captain was a confident man and he knew that if only he had reached out and had opened the door; if he had gone to her bed and had awaken her up with a kiss; if he had caressed her and touched her in such intimate manner that she could not help but moan and plead in his arms for more… if he had only done that he was more than certain that the young girl would forget the existence of any other man but him. And yet, for the first time in his life, Phoebus seemed to have been struggling with the moral issues of that plot. She was there, lying completely defenseless, could he actually take advantage of her at that moment?

Exhausted, weak, beaten up, and unable even to fall asleep, after the last couple of days the captain seemed to have reached a state of mind where everything was wildly spinning and messing up in his brain. He wanted her, he hated the fact that her heart was not belonging to him, and he had to do something to have her, even against her will. Oh, how wrong it was; how he seemed to recognize in him more and more a man he had never suspected he would turn into- a desperate, obsessed, and cold libertine… a rejected man. Perhaps him and Frollo were not so different after all; perhaps it was her that was turning the men into _raging animals_… And yet, perhaps she deserved it. Suddenly Phoebus needed not only to have her, but to punish her for choosing the minister over him… He would go into her room, press her hard to the bed, and would not give her the chance to protest… Then he would tear apart her prison gown, he would open her legs and make her an obedient little gypsy underneath him.

Phoebus held his head with his hands and clenched his fists. She would probably like all that; she apparently liked to be a victim, for what other reason could she possibly prefer Frollo more than the captain? But the soldier, too, could be a villain for her. He could be merciless, cold, wild, raging, and ramming her like a beast! Oh, in what hopeless state the poor ex- captain had got in! He was insensitive to women's feelings, but he had never before experienced such extreme emotions to both love and hurt a woman at the same time. _Alas, wretched are all rejected men!_ And wretched is he that he had to experience for the first time in his life that _fatal fate_!

Suddenly the former soldier heard a horse gallop and before he could sensibly gather his thoughts he realized that steps were approaching the front door of the house. He jumped up immediately, prepared with new boost of adrenaline to fight anyone who was trying to get into the house, but his heart froze cold in his chest as he heard inserting of a key in the locker, followed by unlocking of the front door. He knew who it was… the door opened wide… he knew it was the minister who had come to collect what he believed was his…

**FROLLO'S **gaze floated slowly across the room. The minister's eyes stopped for a second at the standing still ex- captain in front of the bedroom door, but then his stare continued with a sort of calm superiority to search through the room. He stepped in and without even turning for a second time to Phoebus he asked in his usual low and cold voice:

"Where is she?"

"She is save," the ex- captain replied with all the manly voice he succeeded to collect in his exhausted lungs.

The minister looked at the soldier as he lifted his eye-brow impudently:

"I strongly doubt that she can be anywhere near save with you."

"But she can be with you?"

Frollo scanned with his eyes quickly one more time the area, as he ignored the ex- captain's question. The minister's eyes laid again on the captain. Phoebus unconsciously made a slight protective step backwards towards the bedroom door, hindering his enemy that his prey was in the room behind the soldier.

"Move away," Frollo drawled dominantly.

"No! She's not yours to have," Phoebus clenched through his teeth barely controlling the rush of anger in him.

The other man smirked:

"Judging by the door that separates you I do not see her being yours as well."

The ex- captain snapped; without thinking he raced to the minister; the soldier's fist flying towards his rival. However, in his weak and exhausted state the captain found himself a rather useless fighter. Frollo with ease blocked the soldier's arm and with his other hand the minister pinned Phoebus to the nearest wall, strangling him by the neck. Without any word spoken the judge's eyes narrowed in pure revulsion and his bony fingers started tightening like a vise around the soldier's throat.

Phoebus coughed out breathless as he tried in vain to push away his foe.

"She's sleeping in the bedroom," he whispered with faint voice as he looked back at the minister with the same revulsion. Pushing Frollo enough so the soldier could catch a few gasps of breath, he continued: "Do you want her to wake up and find out that the person who had condemned her to death is now murdering her savior in the next room?"

Frollo's features hardened, but he loosed his grip and let go of the captain.

"Even though I wish for it, I do not have in mind your death."

"I am not going to follow your plans anymore," Phoebus spat out, as he ran his hand around his throat to sooth the pain.

"If you have not followed my plans in the first place," Frollo started in a loathing drawl, "you would have never got out alive from the pyre today." The minister looked towards the door of the bedroom, "and you would have never had the chance to save her."

"I didn't save her for you."

The judge looked back at the ex- captain.

"Did you save her for yourself then?" The lips of the minister transformed in a mocking revulsion. "And how long it would be before you get bored of her and toss her aside like all the other tramps that have passed through your bed for one night? A week, a month, a year? How long?"

Phoebus' fists clenched, wildly pulsating with the need to hit the judge.

"Do you honestly believe that you deserve her better," the soldier barked out in defense. "You are the one who have been treating her like a whore. I may have been unfaithful to women, but I have never had to tie one to a bed in order to fuck her! And how many times have you done that to Esmeralda?"

Frollo snapped out as he pierced his fingers in the ex- captain's shoulders and pinned him with a raging force back to the wall.

"I warn you, Captain Phoebus, if you speak to me again like this it will be the end of your pathetic existence."

The menacing voice of the minister sent chills all over the soldier. However he found strength enough to push the judge off him, as his legs faltered and struggled to keep the captain standing.

Frollo smirked as he turned his back towards the soldier.

"I wonder if your devotions towards the gypsy would be so strong if things at your own home were any different." The minister looked back at the baffled expression of the ex- captain. "Your marriage of Lady Fleur- de- Lys was completely opportunistic by your side, but the poor girl seems to have fallen in love with you. She personally came to beg for your immediate release. She did not seem to care for the deeds that have imprisoned you at first place. Instead, she insisted that her mother had secured her a fortune with which the two of you can go away from Paris and never to return back. Of course, I told her that I cannot simply release a criminal back on the streets, but the madam guaranteed that you would be a changed man from now on."

Frollo looked with a cold superiority at the exhausted eyes of the soldier:

"I do not know how much this poor girl loves you, but your madam Fleur- de- Lys is with a child in her belly, and she believes that the news would turn the criminal in you into a loving father."

Phoebus stared idiotically at the minister as if he was speaking in a foreign language.

"A child…"

The judge smirked maliciously.

"I have arranged her to wait for you at the end of the forest in two days time. Madam Fleur-de-Lys assured me that she would have packed all that the two of you need to leave the city immediately after that." Phoebus continued looking at the minister completely dumb. Frollo smirked again. "You see, captain, it did not require of me to kill you in order to get you out of the way."

"And what about Esmeralda?" the soldier asked, snapping out of his trance. "What plans do you have for her? You slaughtered so many people in front of the king's messenger just to blindfold his eyes from her escape. But you cannot expect her to be with you and at the same time to hold her a secret in Paris forever. An important figure like you would definitely draw an attention when seen with a gypsy girl. A word will eventually travel back to Olivier and when he learns out that you have made a fool out of him you won't escape the rope. Perhaps you are the one who have to get out of the way and let her leave the city."

Frollo pushed the captain back to the wall.

"I would kill her myself before I see her leave…"

A small cracking noise made both men turn towards the open door of the bedroom and the standing still gypsy girl. Her hair was disheveled and her bare feet were showing underneath the white gown, making her look more like a ghost than an actual living person. Her hallowed green eyes were sparkling with hot tears as she backed up a step in the bedroom.

"You have planned this," she whispered barely heard, "both of you…"

The minister's heart sank within him. Her suffered beauty made him feel remorse beyond anything that he could articulate. He made a small step towards her.

"Esmeralda…" his deep voice pronounced her name for the first time that night.

"No…" she shook her head, "No, no… no!"

Before the two men could realize what had happened the girl had fled trough the exit door and was now running frantically deep in the woods.

"Asleep?" the minister turned back to the ex- captain. "Idiot!"

Racing outside, Frollo was unable to see the gypsy in the dark. He spotted his black horse, untied and mounted it, as he rode it in the forest after the girl.

"_**ESMERALDA!"**_ Frollo shouted one more time after the girl. The forest was thick and dark, making it very hard to see anything in front of him. "Esmeralda…" he shouted again.

The minister could see nothing; all that he was after was the small hurried steps and the crying breaths that he could hear in the dark. He could hear her, feel her… she was close, but like a ghost she seemed impossible to catch.

"Esmeralda," he yelled one more time as he saw her form not far from him.

The trees in front of him slightly cleared out and now the moonlight had the chance to penetrate the darkness of the forest. He didn't want to hurt or scare her any further, but he had to stop her before she could do more harm for herself than good. With one more jump of the black horse, the minister found himself just above the gypsy, as he reached for her shoulder. She screamed in terror, trying to pull off her sleeve which was now tightly held by the judge. He did not resist her, but instead jumped out of his horse and tried to hold her still in his arms.

"No! No… let go of me!"

"Esmeralda, you have to listen to me! Hear me out!"

"No," the girl pushed him back as she hurriedly tried to manage her steps, but instead tripped and fell hard on the ground.

"Are you alright…"

"No, don't come any closer to me! Stay away," the girl yelled as she dragged herself to the nearest tree and closed her back to it, ready in defense.

Frollo stood a few feet from her, watching her all crawled up on the ground. He went to her attempting to get her back on her feet, but she cried out again, pushing him barely with the leftover strength in her arms.

"Go away!"

"Esmeralda… I never meant for any of these to happen. I just want to help you!"

"No! I don't care what you meant or not! You can't help me; you can only hurt me; go away from me and burn in your hell!"

Frollo went to her and as if she was only a rag doll he lifted her up without any efforts. As she stepped back on her feet, her hot teary stare looked above at his dark eyes. The tips of her fingers touched barely the sharp features on his face as in a split of a second her palm slapped him hard through the face. Her hands tightened into fists as she started hitting them on his chest in a desperate attempt to push him off her.

"I hate you, I hate you…" she screamed breathless, as new flood of hot tears ran down her cheeks. "I hate you, you hear me? I wish you dead!"

Her palms pressed on his chest as she pushed him with all her strength back. He did not resist her, he stepped a few feet away as his eyes were gravely laid on her. Her back pressed again on the tree behind her- now without any additional support her legs failed to keep her steady.

"I hate you; I will never let you touch me again, never!"

The gypsy collapsed heavily back on the ground where she burst out in tears. The minister watched her intently. Her misery and the fact that it was him who caused her that suffering made his heart feel hollow as a dark weight sank with him. He could not touch her, she did not wish him near her… He could do anything for her, but she wanted nothing from him…

Frollo collapsed on the ground a few feet away from her. He watched her all huddled up and miserable, as her tears continued raining down on her. He could do nothing to sooth her, but he was not going to leave her alone…


	25. Witchery

**A/N: **The chapter before the final! The next one will be the last chapter :) I just wanted to thank you all for the magnificent reviews (it is nice to know that my story is not forgotten after a year :)

I also want to specially thank MusicalGenius13 for Beta reading and helping me improve the chapter :)

**I hope you like it and keep the lovely reviews! **

* * *

**Witchery**

_The Last Vice_

**FROLLO** stopped before the doorsteps of his hunting house in the woods. It was almost dusk. He wanted, more than anything, to open the door and find his wretchedly beloved inside, but he hesitated. The last time she met him was not even a day ago, somewhere between midnight and dawn. Yet the minister doubted that she would have a different reaction now than that of the night before.

Esmeralda had frantically run into the woods trying to escape the minister the moment she saw him. He had wished to confess to her, right then and there, all he had done for her, all the bleakness of his dark soul; he wished to throw himself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness, but none of it had been allowed to him. No, instead the girl had collapsed a few feet away from him in hysterical sobs and tears. She had not wanted him anywhere near her, and Frollo doubted that the new day would bring a different reaction.

There in the woods, beneath the black skies and the icy wind the gypsy's body had run out of cries and strength and had eventually given into a sleep. Only then had Frollo dared to approach her and take her in his arms. He remembered how fragile and light she seemed as he had lifted her and brought her back to the house. The minister had not wanted to leave her in the care of the former soldier at all, but he had little choice. Frollo needed to return back to the city, he had extended his stay in the woods more than planned. It was close to dawn when he left the house. He warned the ex- captain that he would come by the following day as soon as he finished his work in the city and it would be in the soldier's best interest not to say anything against the minister to the girl in Frollo's absence.

Frollo snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the door in front of him one more time. The need to see her was much stronger than any of his considerations or fears. He took the key from his pocket, stepped forward, and unlocked the door.

Phoebus, still in his prison clothes, looked guardedly as the front door opened. The minister scanned the room quickly and, seeing only the captain inside, entered confidently.

"Where is she?" the judge drawled, barely noting the ex- soldier's presence.

The captain hesitated for a moment. He looked at the cold assertive eyes of the other man as he clenched his fist but turned his stare submissively towards the bedroom, revealing the gypsy's location. Frollo stared bleakly at the door of the bedroom.

"What did you tell her?"

Before the soldier had any time to answer the minister's question the door of the bedroom opened.

"Everything," Esmeralda said faintly as she emerged from the other room. "He told me everything."

The gypsy girl was barefoot as she made one more step into the living room. She was holding a blanket around her which was covering her shoulders and chest. Her white prison robe was down to her feet; however, it was doing a poor job in keeping the trembling girl warm. Her hair fell heavy down her face, her eyes staring at the floor. As far as the minister could tell, her expression was numb. She was not crying, but there were still signs of the yesterday distress. Her eyes were red and swollen, as the gypsy lifted them only up to the minister's black robes, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Esmeralda, you didn't have to get up. You are too weak," Phoebus hurried to the gypsy before any of the other two had the chance to react. He took hold of her shoulders, gently supporting her fragile figure.

"I am alright," the girl mumbled as she awkwardly avoided the captain's help.

Esmeralda still hadn't gathered enough strength to look at the minister, but even then she could sense his heavy stare upon her. Now, with the eyes of both men were set straight on her she wondered whether it was indeed better for her to stay in bed.

"And what is "everything"?" the deep voice of the minister crawled in her ears as he made a few slow steps towards her. He was just a few feet away, and she felt as if she was cornered by the two men. She lifted her blurry green eyes towards Frollo's face.

"Everything that you did to save me," she said softly. Her green eyes wandered towards the blond captain as she lowered her stare again, "Phoebus told me about the king's messenger and that you had no choice but to imprison us. But then you gave Phoebus a chance to free himself knowing that he would help me too. After that, you sent a soldier to lead us to this house where nobody would look for me."

Frollo consumed every word intently. The captain had skipped the entire massacre, just as he was ordered by the minister.

"Thank you," Esmeralda murmured after a moment, her eyes wandering across the floor, "… and I am so…"

"You don't have to apologize to him, Esmeralda," the captain interrupted, as he gently placed his hand over her shoulder again.

She grabbed his hand, and nervously took it off of her.

"He is right," the minister drawled coldly, adding with a grave tone: "You don't owe me anything."

An awkward silence followed, in which the girl blushed under the intense looks of the two men.

Frollo used the moment to study the gypsy's state closely as he looked her over one more time. Her huddled body under the blanket, which she kept close to her chest reminded him of the bag he was holding.

"I have something for you," he said to the gypsy as he handed her a small bag. "I have brought you some of your clothes so you need not to wear_ this_ anymore," he drawled, unable to articulate the poor prison robe she had been dressed into.

The gypsy's eyes barely looked at his hand as she took the bag uncertainly. She hesitated for a moment, then made a step backwards and with another quick glance at the two men she entered back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

The minister stared at the door in a somber trance.

"You cannot force her to be yours again."

The spitefully whispered words from the ex- captain made him snap out of his state. Frollo looked at the other man with indifference as he drawled after a pause:

"I have something for you, too, _captain_. A word from your wife. She wishes to see you tonight before your departure tomorrow. I told her that you will be at the end of the woods an hour after the sun falls. If you desire to honor the meeting with the woman who bares your child I advise you to leave for it now."

Phoebus snorted:

"And to leave her alone with you? No way am I doing that!"

"I believe you have no choice, _captain_," the minister said menacingly.

The ex- soldier clenched his fist, but he knew that the other man was right. Up until now Phoebus had successfully ignored what the judge had told him the previous night. He was sure that the gypsy had overheard their conversation, but even though she had insisted that Phoebus tell her the truth about her rescue, she had said nothing about him fathering another woman's child. However, the ex- soldier knew that that was something he couldn't neglect for long. He had to know for sure and, therefore, meet his wife. Still his heart felt sick at the thought of leaving the minister with the gypsy.

"I won't be gone for long," the ex- soldier finally said.

"I have no doubt of this," Frollo smirked as he drawled indifferently. "The sun has been down for more than half an hour, you can take the horse that I came with and meet your wife in time."

Phoebus hesitantly looked at the closed bedroom door. He wished he could do more to secure the well being of the gypsy, but he could not. After all, if what the minister was saying was true and the soldier's wife was pregnant, the ex- captain had to leave Esmeralda and Paris for good. The blond man sighed heavily, looked at the minister untrustingly one more time and left the house.

**FROLLO** approached the bedroom door, staring at it intently and yet unable to move a step further. He was alone with her at last, only a wooden door was separating him from his dream, but why did it seem more unreachable than ever? No, he couldn't afford to make more mistakes with her, he had to be patient, let her see that he would not harm her again…

"Esmeralda…" the minister heard his own voice pronouncing her name as he knocked on her door.

He did not know what to say from there on; he did not even intend that much. But it was as if a force more powerful than him was pulling him towards the door, towards her. Everything was silent; he couldn't make another sound… It was as if he was alone surrounded by nothing; nothing which filled his entire essence with overwhelming pain. His lungs filled with cold air as his breath stopped- the door slightly opened.

The gypsy barely looked at his feet as she stepped back in the room, inviting him to follow. The minister fully opened the door as he stood, numb, at the doorsteps. Her appearance, her clothes- she looked exactly as the first day he had laid eyes upon her.

Esmeralda walked up slowly to a big mirror in the room and stared at her image. She ran the tip of her fingers across the white shirt of her dress: it had never been so clean, so purely white…

"You said that the clothes of the convicted to death are thrown away."

"…What do you mean?" Frollo asked, as he seemed completely vacant to her words.

The gypsy turned and looked straight at his eyes for the first time that night:

"We were at your house, sitting at the table for breakfast… I was wearing a prison robe and asked to have my clothes back. You said you couldn't do anything about it because they were long gone and that I had done nothing to deserve your _generosity._"

Frollo broke the eye contact between them as he looked aside. Esmeralda paused for a second, but then repeated again:

"You said that the clothes of the convicted to death are thrown away, why then do I have mine back?"

Silence was reverberating numbly in their ears, the gypsy did not lower her eyes from him.

"I lied," the minister said gravely, breaking the death noise.

Esmeralda smirked miserably:

"All this time you had them with you, and you never said anything. I guess I really didn't deserve your _generosity_… I came to your house as a defeated prisoner and prison clothes were given to me."

"I am sorry," Frollo murmured unfortunately after another long pause.

"Do you remember the first time?" the girl asked, looking back at the mirror. "You tore apart… the prison robe I was wearing. You tore it and then you gave me an expensive dress, as if I was a noblewoman, just to tear it off me that very night…"

"Esmeralda… I am truly…"

"Sorry? For what? You enjoyed it, didn't you?" the gypsy said in spiteful misfortune as she turned and approached the minister who was still frozen at the door. She looked down at her dress again. "What has changed now? You have been bringing me all those high class garments… as if trying to forget that underneath them was just a common gypsy with whom you were _sinning_ in the dark… What is different now; why are you giving me back my gypsy clothes?"

Frollo looked at her eyes and, for the first time, he could not make anything out of her expression. Her stare was determined and yet her face seemed wretched and tortured. He inhaled heavily as he drawled with a defeated graveness:

"I suppose I am not fighting it anymore… I have accepted who you are."

The gypsy's lips curled in a grave smirk as she stepped uncomfortably close to him.

"And who am I? A gypsy? A criminal, an enchantress, a temptress, a demon…" she stood just before him, he could almost sense her with his whole body. She looked up at him, deep in his grey eyes, "or your favorite- a witch?"

He could not hold himself anymore, his stiff fingers rushed and tangled in her hair as he pulled her head to his and plunged his tongue deep between her lips. He had barely savored her inside when she abruptly pulled herself off him. The girl backed up and again turned to the mirror at the other end of the room. She scarcely touched her lips.

"Esmeralda," he started out with regretful tone as he moved from the doorstep of the bedroom and followed her inside. He stopped just before her as she turned and looked at his eyes. He did not dare to touch her again. "I am so…"

"No," she said abruptly as the tips of her fingers stopped at his mouth. "Don't say you are sorry," she commanded weakly, yet determined. "It isn't your fault, is it?" she asked ironically as her emerald eyes narrowed. "It is the witch's fault… it is I to blame, isn't that right?"

Frollo did not answer; his heart burning in frozen ice. He wanted to tell her everything that was tormenting him; he wanted her to forgive him; he wanted her to understand… However, her words made it clear to him that everything he did to her was unforgivable and had no better explanation than pure evil.

For a moment her words were numbly reverberating into the silence. At some point the minister realized that it was completely dark and pouring rain outside. The rain splashed heavily onto the roof of the house. Several candles were burning in the room, creating black shadows to fall all over the gypsy's perfect features. She took her hand off his face as she turned away from him.

"My lips made you kiss me," she mumbled as her hand ran over her own mouth. "My body made you take me," her eyes stopped at one of the scarves that were left in the bag with her gypsy dress. She took it and faced him again. "But you can't touch evil if your hands are tied," she whispered in his ear as she took one of his wrists in her soft hand. She moved behind him taking his other hand and tied his wrists together with her scarf. "There," she said in a soft miserable voice, "you are guiltless, because you are just a victim in a witch's trap."

Esmeralda walked to his face again. She looked into his grave, dark eyes. The minister's entire body was burning in a throbbing pleasure since the moment she had touched his wrist, but his frozen expression did not change. Even with his hands tied behind she felt scared in his presence. That's how he had always made her feel- he could make her feel cold and frozen, but, at the same time, he could arouse hot waves of shame in her that burned her skin. But she needed that, whatever that was, she needed to overcome him, to break his intimidating posture, and to make him feel as vulnerable and weak as she did with him. His silence meant that he was allowing her play so far, but she had not reached an end yet.

Her hands cupped his face as she ran them down his neck and his broad chest. She pushed him forcing him to step backwards and to stumble over the bed, sitting on it. The gypsy cornered him at the end of the bed, pushing his back to the bed frame above the pillows. Their eyes were locked in a burning stare, as she climbed on him. She looked down his chest as her hands started unbuttoning his black robe. She opened it entirely and let her eyes slide over his white skin and grey chest hair before meeting his stare again. His look was burning with longing as she slowly took the locks of her hair and tossed them behind her shoulders, clearing out her face and revealing her generous cleavage. Frollo's eyes could do nothing but break from her face and enjoy the view of splendor dark skin that was offered to him.

"The first time you saw me you wished to reject your beliefs for one night with me. Is that not what you told me once?" she said in a soft and somewhat naïve voice as one of her hands caressed his cheek and lifted his chin, making him stare back into her eyes. A flash struck from the window, as heavy thunder reverberated all over the empty house. She bent her head as she whispered in his ear: "Your eyes have corrupted your soul; if you had never seen the _witch_ you would have never fallen victim to her spell."

Without realizing where she had pulled another scarf from, the minister breathlessly watched as she put the blindfold around his head, forbidding him the view that he so hungrily craved for. In complete darkness, he could still feel her delicious form above him. Frollo sensed the girl's movements as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her dress and stripped herself naked to the waist. He could not see, but the warmth radiating from her skin felt as if it was burning and drawing him closer to her at the same time. His body was craving for hers, as he pushed his back off the bed frame searching for her form.

Two light hands wrapped around his head as Esmeralda pulled his face towards her chest, allowing him to savor the sweetness of her skin. Her lungs filled with air as she moaned without a sound. After another breath she pulled his head off her as she gasped in his ear:

"You are not able to touch or see me… Why would you still want me?"

He did not reply. Her lips softly kissed his cheek as she pulled her face from his. Her hands and eyes slid down his shoulders, chest, and stomach, pausing at the beginning of his pants. A second later, her palms continued down his inner thighs, circling around the bulge underneath his cloth.

"Do you remember our first time?" He did not answer. Esmeralda bent to his ear again, as one of her hands remained teasing around his desire. "You have to confess in order to be forgiven, isn't that what your religion preaches?"

Her circling motions stopped, leaving the minister burning for more. He swallowed heavily as he said with a breathless voice:

"Yes."

His answer was rewarded as the gypsy placed her hand on the throbbing bulge in his pants, making him puff heavily in bliss. She caressed him with the tip of her fingers.

"I wanted you to stop, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," he agreed in a defeated tone.

"Do you want me to stop now?"

"Please don't…" he gasped as she firmly pressed her palm on his crotch.

"That night," she started in a trembling voice, making long pauses after each word, "do you remember how you threw me on your bed, stripped me bare, and ravished me like an animal? Do you remember what you said after you saw the blood between my legs?"

"I…" he could not continue. She stopped moving her hand, urging him to continue. "I said that the witch was virtuous," he breathed out in defeat.

"But witchery is a vice, not a virtue, isn't it?" she whispered as her hand touched his bare skin at the beginning of his pants.

"I am sorry for hurting you…" he mumbled indecisively.

"It wasn't your fault. After all the witch cursed you to sin. But… you liked it, didn't you? You liked hurting me… making me struggle and cry… You enjoyed knowing that you were the first man, the one who made me bleed… Didn't you?"

He did not answer. She slid her hand beneath his pants, but paused before taking hold of his desire.

"You have to confess, and you have to be honest. Only then you will have forgiveness."

"Yes, I did" he gasped breathless. "I burned in a hell of bliss every time… every moment I felt your body fighting mine…"

"You were weak; the witch forced you to sin, but it was your own wickedness that made you enjoy my pain," She paused as her hand slid underneath his bare thigh, purposefully ignoring his throbbing length. She came very close to him as his chest could almost sense her bare breasts above him. Locks of her hair tickled his cheek, as she hissed in his ear: "Beg for forgiveness."

"Esmeralda… please forgive me…" he started out, gasping heavily as the gypsy's hand grabbed his manhood.

In an instant her other hand pulled his pants down just enough to release his entire length, as she stroked it gently.

"I didn't mean for you to beg me, a witch's forgiveness is worth nothing in your heaven, isn't that right?"

He made an attempt to say something between his gasps of pleasure but she put a finger on his mouth.

"It's alright… Your hands are tied and your eyes are shut, this night there is nothing to be guilty for. Tonight it is entirely my fault…"

The gypsy came closer to his crotch, her legs surrounding his. She lifted her skirt and her hands rested on his shoulders as she stood above him. Her head bent down to softly kiss his lips. She gently rubbed her cheek on his. Her voice had not showed it, but her wet and salty skin suggested that tears had been running down her face for some time now.

"Esmeralda, I am so sorry…" he murmured in a trembling voice.

She slightly kissed his cheek and ear:

"Are you really sorry," she asked misfortunately still keeping her cheek onto his.

Her lungs filled with air, as her hands ran over his chest, embracing him closely and with a soundless whimper she lowered herself onto him. Both of them gasped heavily, as the gypsy relaxed her muscles over his body. She pushed harder at him. This time the cornered minister lifted himself up to meet her moves. She moaned silently in pleasure.

Again and again… She had a full control over him. Her hands climbed back up his body. Her elbows collapsed on his shoulders and embraced his head, spreading her fingers in his grey hair. With every thrust the gypsy was pulling herself closer and closer to him. Her breasts were colliding into his chest; her heartbeat as if fighting with his; her stomach was rubbing against his skin; and her body was shaking from the throbbing pleasure coming from her most tender parts. Her legs had totally melted aside her and her whole structure was now supported by her elbows which were pierced on the minister's broad, yet bony shoulders.

She lifted herself to the level of his blindfolded eyes. Her lips bumped into his as her tongue searched for his. He kissed her back hungrily and roughly, enjoying every part of her that he could manipulate. His hips pushed in her harder and harder, making her shiver and moan above him. The girl's control and advantage felt weak, as if she was trying to ride a wild beast for the first time. His strong thrusts lifted her above him and her breasts pushed into his face. She cried out in complete ecstasy as his kisses and tongue abused her tender skin.

"Untie me," he breathlessly commanded .

"No," she gasped between her moans, "… your hands will make you sin."

"I don't care," he grunted huskily, "I want you. I need you…"

She pushed harder hitting a new spot of pleasure, making her jump in delight. Her hands traveled down to his.

"Beg your witch to give you sin," she whispered heavily in his ear.

"Release me at once," he commanded impatiently in a low tone, "… I beg you…"

Her hands skillfully untied the knot of the scarf, freeing his wrists. His hands instantly grabbed her naked waste, fiercely pulling her body down to his. The gypsy jerked in pleasure, hitting another throbbing spot of heat. His hands found their way to her ample breasts, pressing, rubbing and squeezing them ardently. She couldn't help but moan in pleading delight, twitching and anchoring her back.

The minister abruptly turned her over, making her heart skip a beat from the swift change. Pushing her to lie on her back, he rolled over on top of her in the middle of the bed. Her legs automatically tangled around him, as his own legs collapsed on the floor. Half-way on the bed, he rammed in her hard and relentlessly. She arched in pleasure. Clumsily and frantically, he reached the blindfold on his head and removed it hastily from his eyes. Dark and hollow eyes pierced at her twitching body. His bony fingers tangled in her thick hair, pulling it so that her head had no choice but to face him. Their looks interlocked, similar to those of a predator and a prey before the attack. He fervently pulled her closer to him, clashing his teeth in her mouth and passionately devouring her tender kisses.

She pulled away staring at him intently. His eyes were determined and set, yet they seemed grave and sorrowful. The gypsy ran her fingers through his messy and sweat hair as he thrust deep in her. She moaned, as her walls tightened around his length.

"The first time…," she panted between her moans, "do you remember what I told you when you were stripping me naked?"

"You said," the minister puffed out after another hard penetration, "…that I will burn in hell for... this"

"And you told me," she whispered breathless with intense pauses between her words, "that you were already there," She grabbed his head, making him face her eyes. "Are we burning in hell for what we are doing now?"

His eyes tried to avoid hers. He pulled his head away from her hands as he tenderly kissed her bare shoulder. His teeth and tongue made their way to her neck, as every kiss became deeper and rougher. His lips reached her ear.

"We are burning," he whispered in a husky voice, as he shoved himself hard in her, releasing another moan from her lungs. "… burning in the brightest and hottest hellfire."

He kissed her cheek, lips, neck, and collar bone: traveling lower and growing more fervent. Frollo rammed again and again in her warm, moist, and constricting insides. His legs stretched from the floor, pushing away from it and compressing the gypsy harder and harder to the bed. She gasped and groaned, as her eyes closed in pleasure and her head jerked back. Her back arched as her ribcage pushed up front, offering the minister's hands and lips all the sweetness of her beauty. Her legs, no longer functioning, were spread apart submissively craving for more and more of the passionate abuse. She moaned louder and louder, as Frollo panted roughly against her warm and reddened skin. Esmeralda's upper body twitched, quivered, and arched as the peak waves of bliss began bathing her body. Her contracting insides and pleasurable cries were driving the minister to his own edge, as he rubbed harder onto her most tender spot. The gypsy finally groaned heavily in release, curving her back and throwing her head back. Inadvertently, her eyes were set on the open door of the room, which none of them had bothered to close.

In the same second, Frollo panted deep and heavy as the thick warm liquid spurted out of him, giving his body the blissful release. His low voice uttered delightfully:

"Esmeralda…"

"Phoebus..." was chanted back in the empty room.

Frollo's exhausted muscles twitched instantaneously, as his eyes traveled from the naked girl beneath him, who was covering her chest with her hands, to the blond man standing at the doorsteps of the doorway.

"Idiot," the minister hissed as he quickly jumped off the girl and turned to the windows to close his robe.

The gypsy, too, swiftly got off the bed. She slid down on the floor, hiding from the intruder behind the bed as she clumsily attempted to pull her blouse back on her bare shoulders.

It indeed took only a few seconds for Frollo to put himself in order before his vicious eyes were directed back to the door. The ex- captain did not even bother to look at the minister as he turned and left the room, leaving the door open as it was. The judge clenched his fist as he furiously hit the night stand, crashing and breaking the lit candle stand. The gypsy jumped, startled by the sight of the unpredictable judge.

Frollo's attention was drawn to her for the first time since he'd gotten off of her. He observed her blurrily. Still crouched on the floor she put her arm in the second sleeve, fully covering her upper body. She barely looked up at the minister. Frollo turned away, avoiding her eyes.

"I have to return back to the city. I will come again at dusk," he informed coldly as he fixed his garments. He looked at her. "Take care of that _mess_, I don't want to see_ it_ still here tomorrow," he said in a menacing voice, suggesting that there was a wrath in him about to burst.

She attempted to speak, but the words seemed to have stuck in her throat. The gypsy nodded in submission as she got off the floor. He looked at her one more time, his expression unreadable and yet his posture on the other end of the room suggested how much he did not want to approach or touch her. He turned and left the girl behind, as he walked through and out the living room in complete ignorance of everything and everyone around him.

**ESMERALDA** took her time before she came out of the room. The ex- captain was standing still with his back against one of the walls in the living room. She looked at him, just now realizing that he was wearing civilian clothes. The thought automatically lead to the memory of him leaving earlier to see his wife that night. Esmeralda did not say anything; she stood numbly in the middle of the room, staring at the soldier.

"I don't understand you," Phoebus started out with a disgusted voice.

"You don't have to," the gypsy talked back in spite.

Another pause followed as the ex- captain pushed himself off the wall and walked to her. He stopped just a few feet away, as his warm eyes narrowed and stared at her intently. He shook his head as he looked at her bold stare.

"You will never be happy with him; with all the evil he has done."

"I don't care, I forgive everything," the gypsy said instantly, even though she knew that was not the truth.

The ex- captain snorted out as he shortened the distance between them.

"Are you speaking on behalf of all the families he has destroyed? Of all the lives he has taken?"

"That was in the past, he is different now."

Phoebus laughed mockingly.

"You are wrong, Esmeralda. He is the same animal who has raped you over and over again," the soldier was just above her face, making her incredibly uncomfortable. She backed a step off, and he followed. "You are the one who has changed. You are the one who likes being treated as a whore."

The gypsy slapped the soldier, as she tried to leave his presence, but she could not. He clutched her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"And I am not even talking about the perversities he has done to you. He is evil, Esmeralda! Why can't you see it?"

"Let go of me!" she yelled as the soldier released her arm.

He backed off a few steps as he wandered around the room to collect his thoughts.

"I am sorry…"he said as he stopped and looked at her again. "I didn't mean to…"

"It is best for you to leave now," the gypsy said sternly as she massaged her abused wrist.

The soldier jerked his head in disbelief.

"Esmeralda, please…" he stopped as he exhaled heavily and started walking again. "Just hear me out… You know that I'd never hurt you… I love you…"

He walked up to her again and tenderly caressed her cheek. If only she could understand him…

"And what about the woman who bares you child?"

Phoebus sighed heavily as he dropped his hand and looked aside.

"I never meant for this to happen. For any of this… If only I could turn back time I would have done things differently. I would have been with you, I wouldn't have allowed any of…_ of this_ to happen. This child…"

"This child is your responsibility," the gypsy interrupted him. She looked down for a second, but then placed her palms on his cheeks and golden hair as she made his eyes meet hers. "You have a chance for a change and you shouldn't miss it because of the past. I am not the same defenseless girl anymore… You are right- I have changed. You were my first love, you have saved me countless times and I will always be grateful for that. But… but you have to move on…"

Her hands felt so soft and good on him. Her words were paling compared to the intimate way she was holding and speaking to him. He sighed as he removed her hair with his hands, placing it behind her ears. He cupped her face tenderly.

"It has always been you and only you. You are saying that you have loved me once; why should this be left in the past? Why can't we love each other again? I can make you happy, I know it… I love you…"

He looked into her emerald eyes and then down to her lips. Slowly he closed the distance between them and kissed her softly. She did not respond back, but she did not struggle either. The soldier looked at her again, but this time she avoided his eyes as she shook her head.

"No, we cannot be together again. Phoebus, you saved my life, but I don't love _you_…"

The ex- captain dropped his hands and walked again away from her. He made a small circle before looking back into her eyes.

"And you love him?"

"That's not the point."

"And what is it, Esmeralda, because I'm not fucking getting it!"

"You are married and with a child on the way. You are good man Phoebus and I know you will do the right thing."

"The right thing?" he echoed in a mock. "The right thing, Esmeralda, was to have told you what really happened the day you were _saved_," He paused, and then continued, "You see, your _guiltless beloved_ threatened me. If I didn't keep my mouth shut my head would've departed my body," He laughed and then continued, "The truth is that Quasimodo's death was not an accident. He didn't just come to your rescue out of good will; he was just another puppet in the minister's plan for _your rescue_."

The gypsy's eyes filled with tears as she murmured the hunchback's name.

"And it wasn't only his death. Do you at all remember all the people- _your people_, who came to protest against your execution. They were not just by chance there either. Frollo made sure all of Paris knew so that your people came to your rescue. After the hunchback played his part to inspire a riot, all the gypsies followed him. How many of the people there you have known? More than half of them are washing the streets of Paris with their blood!"

"All of this because of me," the gypsy whispered miserably.

"No, not because of you! Because of him! It is not your fault that he is a genocidal maniac!"

Esmeralda was wordless. The soldier sighed one more time as he approached and hugged her tenderly. She did not respond in any way.

"I am sorry, Esmeralda. I didn't want to burden you, but it really isn't your fault, please understand this." He stepped back and looked at her miserable face. He kissed her on the lips one more time. "We can escape, the two of us, and forget this wretched city. I will protect you"

"No," she said it, snapping out of her trance. She pulled away from him and looked at his eyes from a distance. "I think it's time for you to leave. Whatever I decide to do is none of your concern. You did more than enough for me and now it is time for you to take care of your family. Thank you and… goodbye Phoebus."

"Esmeralda," he took a few steps towards her but she stopped him.

"No. I have decided and there is nothing you can say or do to change my mind. You, too, participated in Frollo's plan. You killed to save me. I don't want this… I don't want you."

Phoebus numbly stared at her for a few seconds.

"And where I am supposed to go now?"

"Until you are ready to leave the city, as it was planned, you will go to your wife. Go away with your family; there is nothing left for you here."

"And for you there is?"

The gypsy looked aside as she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Goodbye, Sun God. I hope you find happiness."

"I hope that you do, too," the soldier said in defeat as he left, leaving the gypsy alone in the empty house. She realized that it had stopped raining outside and the forest was in a surprising silence before the new day.


	26. Forgiveness

_**A/N: **_Endings are so very hard; and even in happy endings there is still this sadness of ending that seems to be always there... This is certainly not a good excuse for not posting up the last chapter for over a year especially as I had it in my mind for a long time, but writing it down proved harder than I thought.

Final chapter is finally done and I only hope that you still remember my story :) Your wonderful reviews have really made more than one of my days and they have always encouraged me to sit down and write at least something of the story :)

I love Frollo/Esmeralda and perhaps I have delayed the writing of the story just because I was sad to see them go. But I am also very happy to see my work finally done and I just hope you would enjoy it as well :)

**2 chapters lef**t: I keep talking about a final chapter, but I am actually going to post one more after this one- the reason is because it was all intended to be one, but at the end I decided to split it because it was getting really lengthy to read...

Anyway, 2 final chapters for you guys, I am really sorry again for the ridiculous wait between this and the previous chapter, and THANK YOU so very much for all your incredible reviews, they have really encouraged the completion of this story :)

WARNING: Just a friendly warning that the chapter contains detailed descriptions of sexual nature, don't like it don't read it.

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**Forgiveness**

The Last Virtue

Esmeralda had spent her entire day alone in the house. She had tried to get some sleep, but all that she could think of was him. The gypsy approached the windows for a countless time that day and looked up. To the lonely girl it seemed that the sun was stuck and was refusing to fall down the skies. It was late afternoon, and yet dusk seemed so far away. He told her he will come at sunset... She should have left the house and run away… she should have left him. All day long the words of the captain echoed in her ears over and over again like a bad omen. It was her fault that Quasimodo was dead… because of her Frollo had orchestrated a massacre just so she can escape… She even didn't know how many lives her escape had cost; she just knew that even one death on behalf of her is too much to bear…

A metal key rang into the lock of the front door as Esmeralda jumped sensing how the breath froze in her lungs. She shouldn't have stayed…

Frollo walked into the room scanning the area with his usual cold and distant look. When his eyes fell down on her face it seemed as if his features softened, however his serious expression remained. He didn't say anything; his eyes moved away from her as if he was checking the room for something.

"He is gone," Esmeralda said in a low voice, breaking the silence in the room.

The minister looked at her again. A slight smirk crept across his face as he closed the front door. She was staying frozen in the middle of the room barely looking at him.

"That's what you want, don't you," the gypsy said in a rigid voice. "You want _us_ alone in the middle of nothing…"

Frollo leered at her words.

"Yes, that is very much at my pleasing," he drawled in a tone that sounded both as a grave sincerity and a soft- spoken desire.

He advanced towards her, looking intently at her face with a hope to meet her eyes. Esmeralda jerked as she made a few steps away from him in a rather protective and scared manner. Frollo ceased his advance as he lifted his eyebrow in disbelief.

"Is there something wrong?"

Esmeralda looked at him for a partial of the second as her eyes wandered across the room's floor.

"Remember the day you found the Court of Miracles and captured me? You were going to burn me alive if I didn't agree to be with you that day, weren't you?"

The gypsy locked her blazed in tears green eyes with his. Frollo did not look away, however his face became graver and detached.

"Why are you asking me this, we both know the answer of it." Frollo felt as if something was suffocating him; he felt weak and bitter. He wished to tell her how sorry he was for everything he had done to her; he wished to throw himself at her feet and beg her for forgiveness, and yet he felt his body numbly frozen where he was standing. He had tried to apologize to her before, but he knew better that words were not powerful enough to fix all the evil he has done to her. Moreover… it was evil that he wished for her at the time of its doing…

Esmeralda sighed heavily as her voice started to tremble:

"You would have done it because you hated me as much as you loved me. And now… now I wonder if anything has changed at all."

Frollo narrowed his eyes uncomprehending.

"I no longer hold hatred in my heart towards you, Esmeralda… I love you."

The gypsy sobbed as she fought to withhold the fall of tears in her eyes. Frollo rushed with a few steps towards her but stopped immediately after she backed away from him.

"Love shouldn't be so destructive."

The minister was well aware with all the suffering he had put the girl through, however she seemed to have had something else in mind.

"What are you talking about?"

"If you have loved me you wouldn't have killed the people I've cared about… You wouldn't have slaughtered my friends to save me… This cannot be love; you must hate me to do this and then to let me live knowing that the cost for my life was the blood of my friends."

"You should have never known that," Frollo said in a cold voice as he clenched his teeth. That was why she was acting so strange; the ignorant captain was the reason of having her now terrified by the minister. "I'm going to kill him," he clenched angrily through his teeth.

"No!" Esmeralda shouted in hysterical sob. The minister's startled; his eyes looked back at her. "I don't want you to kill anyone EVER AGAIN!" she sighed heavily in a silent weep. "I should have known that… I don't know how it happened… How could it have ever been possible for me to…" the gypsy struggled in her words, her heart raging in a throbbing storm of pain. She looked at him as her face was altered into a miserable disgust. "This is wrong… you are wrong. What you did to me, what you did to those people- I can't… I don't love…"

"I forbid you to say that," Frollo interrupted her with a harsh and barely controlled voice. His whole structure seemed to tremble with rage as he clenched his fists and looked at her with an austere and authoritative glare of fire.

Esmeralda's breathe seized in pain:

"I shouldn't have stayed…" she started as her feet automatically backed up to head to one of the side exits of the room.

Before the gypsy could have realized what have happened, the minister had rushed and abruptly pinned her up to one of the wooden walls.

"But you did stay," he hissed overwhelmed with both great rage and fear in his voice.

Esmeralda's eyes were wet with hot tears.

"You are hurting me… let go of me!"

Frollo's hand gripped roughly the gypsy's wrist and pushed her against the wall. His whole body was pressing against hers, making him all too well aware of her ample forms. His eyes wandered to her rapidly rising and falling chest. He shook his head.

"No," he pronounced almost without a sound.

The gypsy met his eyes again as now they seemed bleak and intense like an animal ready to attack. She wept miserably as she tried to look away but she couldn't. The minister gripped her jaw and made her look at him. He stared at her for a moment as if he was hesitating, but then his lips rushed to hers, as his teeth clattered against her mouth and his tongue forced its way inside her. In her tight position Esmeralda could do nothing but to whimper shortly in protest.

Suddenly the minister pulled away from her mouth, interrupting abruptly the forced kiss. He looked at her wet eyes again.

"You do not wish this- you do not wish me to let go of you," the minister started in an authoritative but trembling manner, "I beg of you… don't say you want to leave me."

"You are hurting me," the gypsy repeated in a more hesitant voice.

Frollo clutched his hand into her shoulder as he roughly pressed himself to her. She cried out in pain and fear of what he might do next, but then his head passed hers as he rested it onto the wall behind. His hand let go of her wrist, and then both of his arms were embracing tightly her body as if it was a life- belt in an ocean of death. Their cheeks were now touching, as he slightly rubbed his face onto her raven hair, sensing her scent.

"That was not my intent…" the judge whispered almost breathless.

Without giving any time for reaction on the side of the gypsy, Frollo suddenly collapsed in her feet. Esmeralda's body was left standing alone numbed and pinned onto the wall. The minister's hands were now embracing her waist and his head was buried in her dress below her breasts.

"I am sorry…" the gypsy could barely distinguish from the stream of incoherent words that were coming from him.

Esmeralda had never seen the minister like this. Frollo's hands had become rigid and almost insensitive, as his bony fingers were digging into the cloth of her dress; his breaths were irregular, deep, and frantic; and his voice was sounding at the same time commanding, pleading, threatening, and remorseful.

"Please… Don't leave me… I didn't have any other choice… can you forgive me… I am sorry…"

The gypsy's hands rested soothingly on his head, as Esmeralda realized that she had done so completely automatically. Her eyes looked down on him, as her fingers brushed across his grey hairs. He looked like a sinner who has been tormented in hell and who now has clung himself desperately onto the last hope of redemption. She knew that only one word of hers can make him whole again, but it wasn't really her that he was asking for forgiveness.

Esmeralda placed her hands onto his shoulders as she got down on her knees as well. Her full of tears face met his eyes, which were surprisingly not wet at all. Instead, her blazed emerald look was stared back by the dried out and tortured glare of his dark eyes. His frozen expression made her look down- several wet tears rolled down her cheek and splashed softly onto the wooden floor.

"It is not my right to forgive you," she whispered, breaking out the cold silence. The gypsy looked at his eyes again. "You have caused me so much misery and you have meant every bit of it. It is simple- you hated me and you wanted me to suffer for it… I cannot forgive you, but I can hope you are not that person anymore" The gypsy rested her elbows onto his shoulders as her arms embraced his head drawing his forehead closer to hers. She pressed her forehead gently onto his for a moment; then she sighed heavily and shook her head in a misfortunate sob. "But what you did that day on the Place de Grève… what you did to those people… to Quasimodo… you say you did it because you love me?" Her blazing green eyes pierced right at his. "How can I ever have the right to forgive you for that? How can I ever hope that you will not be that person again?... That would mean to hope that you will not love me anymore…"

Now it was Frollo's turn to cup gently her face into his hands.

"Esmeralda," he said in a voice mixed between tenderness and severity, "what I did was not out of my love for you… I did it because of my own fear. Fear to lose the only thing that I have ever cared for- you… I have never hated you- I have loved you from the moment I saw you. I hated that rush of heat and anguish that was burning beneath my skin whenever a thought of you … I did not want to confess to myself that it was love that I was feeling towards you… I hated myself for all those guilty and strange emotions that were raging within me and… and for all the horrors that I have done to you I can only beg each day of my life God and you for forgiveness. I am not optimistic at all of believing that I will ever be forgiven for my sins by neither of you, but I cannot allow you thinking even for a moment that my sins are yours to bear… I have killed many people throughout my existence… both deserving and innocent people… I do not feel remorse for that because I believe it was my duty to do it… I do not regret what I did on the Place de Grève that day either… but I did not do it because I love you, I did it out of selfishness and fear… I guess in that way love can be accompanied with vices… they can make a man weak and fearful of losing something that has never been really his… But that is not love's doing. Love can make one selfless and benevolent if given the chance… You did that, Esmeralda; you gave me the chance to want to be a different person for you… Please, do not take me that chance away… I thought myself faultless and just, but after all that we have been through… after all that I have done to you… I realize that my devotion for you is the only real virtue that I have ever had… It may be weak and vulnerable to mistakes, but it is the only thing that urges me to want to be better… for you. So I beg of you, Esmeralda… my fiery temptress, whose glance was enough to strip me away of my chaste and faith, I beg of you- do not forbid me to love you, because that is the last and only true virtue that I have left."

A tear was rolling off the cheek of the girl as Frollo wiped it away with his thumb. His hands were still on her face while he was staring intently at her green eyes. Her warm and wet cheeks made her seem even more irresistible and perfect to him. He slowly started to close the gap between their faces as he looked down to her lips and imprinted a soft kiss on them. Esmeralda slightly sighed, but did not move any further. Frollo looked at her eyes again, as if waiting for her permission…

They were still down on their knees on the floor, as the minister was now so close to her that he could feel her rapid heartbeat; her calmed down but irregular breaths; and her warm skin next to him. The torturous moment of his anticipation of her next move was finally over as the girl stretched her arms to his head and drew it closer to hers. This time she imprinted hesitantly her tender lips onto his. A kiss after kiss… her soft lips were barely touching his mouth, as they were creating a pleasing tickling sensation. Her warm and wet skin was only increasing his hunger for more of her…

Suddenly his hand grabbed firmly her head and pressed her even tighter to his face. His tongue plunged deep into her mouth savoring her wet inside and leaving her breathless. His whole body pushed onto hers, pinning roughly her back onto the wall. She whimpered in surprise from the abrupt change as she found herself overwhelmed by his strength. He stopped, as he backed his body off her.

"No…" she murmured breathless, "don't stop."

Encouraged by that, Frollo merged again his lips with hers for another passionate kiss. His intense and fervent kisses resembled a hungry beast who had finally found his perfect kill. She felt warm and soft beneath him as his hunger was growing bigger and bigger.

The minister's bony fingers found the end of her dress as he slipped his hand beneath her skirt. His palm started moving along her thigh. Chills of ecstasy were running more and more intently throughout her body as he was moving upper and upper. Flushed she felt the metal from his rings reaching to her most intimate parts. She uncontrollably wriggled in joy as his fingers found her most pleasurable spot between her legs and firmly pressed against it. His rubbing motions made her moan as now she was pushing herself closer and closer to him. Her arms were closely wrapped around him; the sense of her breasts pressed against him and the wetness of her loins was making the bulge in his pants burn in unbearable ache.

The minister abruptly backed off her body. He roughly grabbed her shoulders, pulled her off the wall, and pushed her to the floor as his body followed on top of hers. Relentlessly he stripped her dress off her shoulders continuing pulling it down, revealing her breasts, stomach, waist, loins, and legs… He tossed her gypsy robe aside, leaving her completely naked beneath his hungry eyes. Kneeling between her legs, he opened his black gown and tossed it off his back. His hands went to his trousers as he pushed them down just enough to reveal in front of the girl his fully erect member. His dark eyes gazed upon her rising and falling chest as her blushing face met with his. Frollo lowered himself down to her face, as he sealed their lips with a moist kiss. Esmeralda's soft hands ran across his silver chest as her legs wrapped around his body making him shake in anticipation. Interrupting the kiss and staring at her emerald eyes the minister thrust himself with all his might into her.

Oh, that was pure heaven! In an instant the gypsy felt completely filled as Frollo made another thrust into her. His entire body was pressing her to the floor as she could barely even breathe beneath him. He was pushing himself hard into her and he was groaning loud next to her ear. His head was now buried into the locks of her big hair as his arms were firmly embracing her, droving his body closer and closer to her curvaceous frame. Her soft and ample breasts were sending fiery sensations throughout his entire skin. Her wet and moist insides were sharply contrasting with his burning organ, making him shove it harder and harder into her.

Esmeralda gasped in breathless pleasure, amazed at how much she enjoyed his insensitive thrusts. She wrapped her legs even tighter to his limbs as her hands traveled to his lower back, grabbed his buttocks and drove him even closer to her loins.

The minister was barely separating from her as he was now only pushing harder and harder into her. His legs, numb and shaking, were automatically rocking him back and forth on top of the girl. He groaned over and over again as the peak moment of his pleasure approached. Esmeralda's passionate sighs and the sense of her tender frame which was clutching longingly onto his body were blissfully overwhelming him. He rammed harder and harder, shoving and pushing mercilessly his burning member into her wet warmth. Release neared and no longer being able to withstand it, he spurted out his semen into the gypsy's insides. He panted heavily as he completely emptied himself in her and blissful ease spread out throughout his body.

The joy of the moment had made him completely oblivious as he suddenly sensed the rising and falling chest of the gypsy girl beneath him. Moments after he had finished he lifted his sweaty head from the gypsy's curls and stared at her flushed face. The minister placed one of his hands to her face as he removed a few wet locks from her view. His experience of pleasing her was quite limited, but based on their previous _consented_ encounters a thought crossed his mind that he had probably climaxed before her.

"Were you able to…" he hesitantly panted out as he realized that he had neglected her.

The girl's eyes awkwardly escaped his, looking down in embarrassment. He was still closely on top of her, which made any other moves on her side impossible.

"I…" she stuttered after an uncomfortable moment of silence, feeling heat covering her face as her cheeks reddened.

His half- stated question caught her completely unprepared… he had never asked her anything like this before and frankly she did not know how to talk about it. The numb silence and her cooling down body made the girl even more embarrassed as she felt obliged to say something.

"I…" she started again but luckily Frollo's lips came to her rescue, as he gently kissed her, freeing her from answering him back.

He kissed her again and again, as Esmeralda's timid responses encouraged him.

"I am sorry for that," he whispered in her ear, "but I will try to compensate you."

The girl's heartbeat increased as the minister's head lowered and traveled down her body. Esmeralda felt a tingling knot of pleasing tension form in her stomach as Frollo traced his tongue around her belly button and continued further down. The minister's chin was already reaching her most tender region as suddenly the gypsy shivered in hot embarrassment. In an instant she sensed his moistened tongue to press against her burning pleasure. The gypsy's head pinned down to the floor and she set her blazed stare at the ceiling as her lungs filled with air and she froze in ecstatic shame. His tongue ran across her outer lips and then he made his way inside them. The girl moaned intently as her thighs tightened around him. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists in unbearable elation as suddenly she felt one of his fingers make its way inside her. Her dripping wet walls encouraged him and he slid another finger into her. His lips and tongue were now running up and down above his hand, as the girl automatically pushed herself closer to him. The electric waves of burning rapture were running all over her body as the hot shame of her vulnerable situation was further amplifying her pleasure. Lost any control of her body she pushed harder into his fingers as his mouth hit a new spot of joy, making her arch her back in delight. She panted and she gasped heavier and heavier as her lungs felt completely empty while her heartbeat was getting quicker and quicker.

By the time Esmeralda was blushing in joy and elation the excitement of the act had as well aroused the minister. With every moan of sweetness and pleasure from Esmeralda he was becoming more and more aware of the new throbbing heat from his own loins. The gypsy gasped intently, as the noise reminded a combination of a whimper and a sigh, and drove Frollo to the edge. He pulled away from her as he abruptly grabbed her body and turned her over so that her breasts and stomach hit the wooden floor. Without leaving her a chance to realize what was happening he took her by the waist, lifted her pelvis up and shoved his entire length into her. The abundant wet of her walls made him grunt in complete ecstasy and bliss. Esmeralda had barely stabilized herself onto her knees and elbows as the minister pushed harder into her, making her whole structure shake and wobble. He gasped again in pleasing delight as he put one of his hands onto her waist. The minister bend closer to her as with his other hand he reached her loins. He rubbed her most tender spot, making her moan in approval as he thrust himself again into her. His unstable position above her was held solely on her; however the burning pleasure was making him push harder and more recklessly into her. Her groans and gasps beneath him were encouraging his thrusts as his hand continued to massage her front region.

Esmeralda's legs were buckling, barely holding her and the minister above her, as ecstatic chills were spreading all over her body. Gasps of air were interrupting her heavy moans while the minister was pressing his entire body over hers and leaving her completely at his mercy. Her walls started to contract more and more as Frollo panted out in delight above her. He was becoming greedier and greedier for the tight sensation inside her, becoming to ride her faster and faster. The minister was frantically ramming into her, making her entire body shake while his pelvis was pounding hard against her buttocks, giving them both incredible pleasure. The wooden floor beneath them started to squeak louder and louder; both of them felt their knees and joints hurt from the intense position of their bodies, and yet all that they could register was the blissful joy that their burning loins were giving one another.

The gypsy moaned louder, panting and gasping intently for air as she pushed herself harder against the minister's shoves while waves of ecstatic delight were running all over her body. The pleasure was beginning ever more intense, overlapping, escalating and making her groan and pant uncontrollably. Another deep thrust from Frollo was all that the girl needed to be thrown to the edge and to reach her climax more powerfully and intensely than ever before. Esmeralda curved her back inward, so that her rear was pressed even more against the minister, as she let loud moans of bliss to escape her lungs. The spasms of her wet walls were gripping the minister's member tighter and tighter as he was barely holding himself to wait for her to finish first. The release of her loud moans and then the silent gasps for air was all the signal he could wait for before he exploded into her with a loud gasp of bliss. He panted heavily, shakily pushing a couple of more times until he fully emptied the hot streams of seed into her.

The minister withdrew from her, heavily collapsing on the floor. The gypsy girl barely had the strength to turn herself over, lay with her back on the wooden floor and search with her big eyes the minister's face. Frollo gazed pleasingly over her exhausted naked body as suddenly the sense of his own nudity made him search for his pants, which were still around his ankles, and to pull them up to his waist. Esmeralda's eyes wandered for a second around the room as she felt awkward to look at him while dressing, however a after a moment their eyes met again. They were both still trying to catch their breaths and while the heat of the passion was cooling down she too felt the need to cover herself up. Thinking about her dress she thought it was too far away to get. Instead of that the girl turned her body on one side placing one of her arms over her breasts and overlapping her legs so that to hide her intimate region between them. She put her other arm under her head, serving for a pillow, as she was still trying to calm her fast breathing. The view made Frollo slightly smirk with lustful delight, as his eyes traveled shamelessly all over the curves of her body until he reached again her eyes.

"You know, this house has beds that I believe would be far more comfortable to lay upon," the minister said teasingly while still trying to even his breathing.

Esmeralda smiled softly, starting to stand up, as she blushingly replied: "You didn't seem to mind the floor a moment earlier."

The minister smirked as he stood up and went to give her a hand as both of them headed to the nearest bedroom.

"**WE HAVE NEVER** done this before," the gypsy whispered next to Frollo's ear, breaking the peaceful silence in the room.

It has been passed several minutes since they moved to the bedroom and laid down under the covers of the bed. The minister was closely embracing the naked body of the girl, running slowly his fingers through her raven hair as she was lying on the side with her arm over his bare chest.

Frollo's eyes searched for hers as he pleasingly smiled at her words.

"Yes, we haven't," he confirmed in a low, but soft voice, as his thumb brushed against her cheek. "Did you enjoy it?"

"No… I mean _that_ I did, yes! It was _very_…" she sighed blushingly, "…_enjoyable_." In the room the only light was coming from a few candles, but her reddened cheeks were well visible to the minister. "Yes, it was… but I was not talking about that…" she started as she begun to make gentle circles over his chest with the tips of her fingers. "I meant we have never done _this,_ now- after we have been together… we have never just lied down and be… together, like we are now…" The girl become even more blushed than before as she added: "I like it..."

Frollo smiled as he took her hand into his.

"I am too enjoying very much the present moment."

Esmeralda smiled as her big eyes met his. Her emerald stare felt at the same time so innocent and bewitching to the minister as his own eyes sank into hers. He gently drove her closer to his face as he imprinted a soft kiss onto her lips. The gypsy's eyes closed and she hesitantly drove her tongue into his mouth, which he met readily. He passionately consumed all the moist of her tongue as he gently sank his teeth and sucked on her downer lip. Suddenly Esmeralda interrupted the kiss and withdrew from him.

Frollo withdrew his hand from her, giving her some space, and he patiently waited for her to speak.

"You should have never let me go…" she started out quietly.

"What are you talking about?"

"After the first time you said you loved me and the night we had together… why did you let me go in the morning?"

"I just wanted to give you what I believed you wanted…"

"But I wanted you and you just let me go… For all this times that I resisted you were always pulling me closer and closer to you and than the one time I did not resisted… you just sent me away. If you haven't done that all the things that have happened because of me would have never happened…" Esmeralda had almost whispered the last words as a hot tear rolled off her cheek.

"Esmeralda," the minister started softly but he was still not touching her, "of course I did not intend to have you endure any of the misfortunes you had to go through after we parted, but we both know that you did not want me at the time I let you go."

"Why would you say that?"

Frollo rolled even further in the bed from her as he did not wish her to make him say what was on his mind out loud. But her demanding eyes left him no choice. He lifted himself as he sat in the bed and looked down upon her.

"After I confess my love to you, you may have let me have you that night but you also cried yourself to sleep after that… And then after I let you go you alone told me that…" Frollo paused as he felt raging wave of jealousy spin his mind just at the thought of what he was about to say. "You told me that you have gone and let that excuse of a soldier bed you," the minister said in one breath as his voice was monotonous and detached and yet his piercing grey eyes were expressing all too well how enraged he is by those words.

It was Esmeralda's turn to lift herself up and sit on the bed as she held with one of her hands the blanket they were sharing over her breasts. Her eyes were now leveled with his as she looked at him with a moistened but certain stare.

"I lied…" she said softly as her eyes timidly looked down.

"What do you mean?" Frollo asked still with a detached austerity in his voice.

"You have hunted me down and thrown me back into the dungeons like I was nothing to you but an animal. And after that all that you cared about was whether I have slept with Phoebus or not." Esmeralda pierced her green eyes into his as now the minister felt chills of guilt run over his body. "I just wanted to hurt you and that is why I told you that I have been with him, but you should have known better than that…

The things that you told me on the night you said you loved me changed the way I have been seeing you… I wanted _you_ at that moment because I realized that you were the only man that have truly needed, desired, and wanted me… ironically, the only man that have ever loved me for exactly who I am. And after you made love to me for the first time I cried because I couldn't, and I still can't understand how the man who has been the reason for all my misfortunes be also the only man that I cannot seem able to let go of. I cannot stop thinking of you and needing you exactly the same way you cannot stop needing me. After you said you love me in an instant I was ready to forget all the suffering and misfortunes you have caused me because I felt like I understand your love… and that made me cry. I was not suppose to let go over one night all the hatred that I had for you just as I am not suppose to forgive you now for all the suffering you have not only caused me but also caused so many other innocent people. But that night after you said you loved me I seem to have in an instant forgiven you all that you have ever done to me and all that you will ever do to me in the future because even then I knew that I wanted _you_. I feel great shame for the weakness of my heart but even now I cannot refuse you and you are a fool to think that I have thought or been with anyone else after that night."

Rivers of tears were running down the girl's cheeks as her voice was trembling throughout her entire speech.

"Esmeralda," Frollo started as he reached out for her face but the girl anxiously pushed his hand aside.

She wept out loudly as the minister observed her unmoving for a moment but then rushed to her grabbing her shoulder with his hands; roughly pulling her face closer to his; and sealing a firm kiss onto her wet lips. He continued further, sliding one of his hands to her neck and the other to her head as he pulled her even closer to him devouring her entire moist and leaving her breathless underneath him. Only then he interrupted the kiss and pulled off her. He gazed at her puffed from the tears face as he wiped out with his thumb the tears on one of her cheeks.

"Words can never even begin to describe the remorse I am feeling for everything that I have done to hurt you, but I do not wish you to feel shame for being with me." He paused as he gently caressed her cheek and neck. "I swear to you that I will try to do all that is in my power to make you happy for the rest of my life… I love you, Esmeralda, and I am sorry that I was a fool to have taken me so long to realize it."

His words have calmed the girl as the minister gently kissed her then gazed again at her face. She was looking down as she sighed barely heard.

"I am not strong enough to leave you," she said in an emotional but steady voice. "I know that now. But I don't know if I am strong enough to forget… all that has happened; to forget what you did not to me, but to the people here…"

The gypsy sighed miserably in the cold room as she couldn't bring herself to look back at the minister. Both were quite for some time as the cold silence was putting greater and greater distance between them with every second.

"Let us leave them," the low voice of the minister suddenly broke the dark stillness in the room. The gypsy hesitantly looked at him as he spoke again after their eyes met: "If you cannot bear what I did you should not blame my love towards you for my actions. You should blame the power I have to do what I did… Don't forgive the minister who have been chasing and killing your people, but forgive Claude Frollo who is now besides you and tells you that he loves you. I don't want to be anything you fear and despise, I love you and I wish to spend the rest of my life with you no matter where it is."

Esmeralda's eyes looked aside as she gasped for air.

"You want me to leave Paris?"

"I want us to leave all the ill memories behind us and to start in a place where neither of us is haunted by their demons."

"You are going to resign all your lands and titles you have made in Paris?

"I don't care for none of those things, but you."

Esmeralda sighed again overwhelmed by his words as she suddenly sensed chills creep on her shoulders. She hugged the cover closer to her as she felt cold, vulnerable, and frightened. However, before she had the chance to do anything else the minister had suddenly come closer to her and embraced her. He imprinted soft kisses on her face as the gypsy relaxed in his arms and laid her head on his broad chest.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered in her ear, "I swear to you that I will never again do anything to harm you."

The gypsy closed her eyes as her own arms embraced his and she returned: "I want that… I want to forget and not to be scared again; I want to be able to forgive you and to feel good about it…I will leave the city with you…"

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the next one is the final one :)


	27. Epilogue

_**A/N: **_Final Chapter! I couldn't resist but to make one of those 20 years later thing, just felt it will give a better closure to the story.

I want to thank you again for your amazing reviews that have really kept this story going, let me know what you think about the last 2 chapters :)

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**EPILOGUE**

**22 YEARS LATER…**

"Madame, I would like to express my sincerest condolences to you. At a time of such hardship I can only imagine the pains and problems a young widow such as yourself must have endured to bring the body of her deceased husband to the Notre- Dame Cathedral."

"Your sympathies are much appreciated, Archdeacon Benoit. But I beg of you to address me as Mademoiselle Esmeralda- the life that I have shared with my deceased beloved has never been blessed by your Church and I cannot be even called now a widow."

"I beg your pardon then," the priest responded somewhat disapprovingly at the gypsy's blunt words, "I was left with a different impression from the arrangements we have made before your arrival here."

"You have been more than cooperative and supportive in all the arrangements for the funeral and I would like to express my gratitude in a modest gift to your cathedral," Esmeralda said with a cold and monotonous voice as she handed the priest a coin purse.

As the Archdeacon received it he promptly opened it as his eyes blazed with greed.

"That is more than generous of you," he exclaimed with a renewed tone of forced courteous respect as he then added: "You are indeed a kind and virtuous woman, _Mademoiselle_."

Esmeralda slightly smiled at this assertion. After all this time she had learned all too well that everything that virtue needs is money. She had quickly discovered that the best medication against intolerance was money. It was simple really -the color of her skin, her religious and life choices were irrelevant once a coin purse was handed out.

"Shall I assume then that my status is no longer a problem to our arrangements for the funeral," the gypsy asked with a slight note of mockery in her still cold and indifferent voice.

"But Mademoiselle, I would never dare to judge a noble and humble woman such as yourself," the priest said in a sleazy politeness. Holding tightly the given purse close to himself he turned away as he noticed one of the other priests to signal him. "I wish to assure you that personally I will undertake the arrangements for the funeral tomorrow. Mademoiselle, please excuse me now, but I must leave you to prepare for the evening prayer. Of course you are more than welcome to stay during it."

"I do not wish to take more of your time today, Archdeacon. I thank you but I must decline your gracious offer to stay during your service. I will take my leave from you now but I hope to see you tomorrow morning" the gypsy replied with the same indifferent voice.

The priest just nodded and left the presence of the gypsy. She vacantly watched him leave as her mind was somewhere else. After all these years nothing seemed to have changed in the cathedral. She looked at the staircase near the entrance and she suddenly wondered what had become of Quasimodo's place at the attic of the tower. This thought felt heavy on her chest as she realized how long it has been not thinking of him… In fact she had not really given much thought for anything in Paris ever since she had left it more than twenty years ago. And now after all this time all these strange and distant emotions from her younger years seem to be returning in her heart with the return in the city…

"Esmeralda…" she suddenly heard an oddly familiar voice to call her name. She turned as her green eyes met the man who was calling her. "I cannot believe it, is that really you," a tall man in his late forties said as he approached the gypsy.

"Phoebus…" she returned, otherwise completely speechless.

Phoebus stood in front of her as the lack of speech gave them both the opportunity to take a better look at each other. It had been so many years but the former captain unmistakably was able to recognize her. She looked so much different now and yet her beauty was still as present to him as it had been 22 years ago. Esmeralda was wearing a heavy, black dress with a tight corset that was well underlying her feminine and still exquisitely beautiful figure. The many little dark embroideries and layers to the dress as well as on the black gloves she was wearing were all revealing the expensive and high class nature of her attire. The gypsy's voluminous raven hair had not changed with time, but it was now all gathered and neatly arranged in a sophisticated hairstyle that was so unlike her. From head to feet she seemed completely transformed into a high rank woman and it seemed that time had left only her dark skin as a reminder of her youthful gypsy years.

The years apart were well reflected on the older and somewhat exhausted face of the former captain. His golden hair that was once the object of admiration and fascination from the many maiden hearts in his youth had long ago lost its luster and it was now thinned- out and mostly gray. His eyes had many wrinkles around them, however his look was still warm and his smile was still succeeding in bringing some kind of odd comfort into the gypsy. Phoebus was wearing his captain armor with which the gypsy had seen him so many times before which finally gave her the reason to break up the serene silence they had established among them.

"You are wearing your armor… I don't understand… when did you return back in Paris," Esmeralda started out as she frequently interrupted her own questions wondering which one to ask him first. It was truly remarkable that even after all the years that had passed between them she still felt like nothing more but a damsel in distress in his presence.

"Yes… I am a captain now… again," Phoebus started as he seemed at lost for words, too. "I got my career back in track in the countryside and 14 years ago I was called back in service to the city… As I found out Paris easily forgets- it was as if nothing has happened…" the captain briefly explained as he tried as much as he could to stay away from the painful topics that had made him leave the city at first place.

He stopped as he gazed upon her quietly then sighed in an awkward smile "I still can't believe that it's you- you look so beautiful…"

Esmeralda responded with a modest smile as her green eyes were caught in his for a brief moment and then she looked away. With the passing years it seemed as if her emotional and wild character had been calmed down and was now exchanged with some kind of graceful serenity. However, on her face one could clearly read sorrow and grief.

Phoebus looked away as well as he cleared out his throat awkwardly, realizing that his last remark had made her uncomfortable. After all those years he was surprised to find out that his feelings for her had not changed and naturally his mind was burning to ask what had happened with the man for whom she had left him. The captain had quickly learned out even before his arrival that minister Frollo was no longer in Paris and he had resigned all his titles and properties in the city shortly after Phoebus himself had left Paris. But the captain had never heard anything more neither about the minister nor about the gypsy.

"What about you, Esmeralda," he asked in a lighter tone after a moment of silence as he attempted to sound casual, "how have you been the past years?"

"I have been good, thank you…" the gypsy returned somewhat vaguely as her green eyes stared back at him and she forced a polite smile.

The least thing that Esmeralda wanted right now was to share her life story with a man who she had never expected to meet again, and yet she found some kind of odd comfort in seeing him at that moment. Consumed in her own reflections she neglected to notice the approaching steps behind her. A light hand was placed on her shoulder which snapped her out of her thoughts and made her turn around.

"Madeleine, I told you to wait in the carriage outside," Esmeralda said in a soft voice as she gently took the hand of the girl in her hands.

"I apologize, mother, but I couldn't wait to visit the place that father spoke so often about."

Phoebus looked with surprise to the girl who had suddenly joined them. She seemed no older than 15, and yet her stature and the way she was behaving reminded to much more mature and sophisticated woman. She was with a head shorter than Esmeralda and somewhat thinner than her, but aside from that her physique and her clothes were very similar to the gypsy woman. Madeline's hair was as well alike the other woman, as it was big and raven black, but much longer and falling freely to her waist. Her hair and dark eyes were sharply contrasting with her relatively fair skin. The young girl's beauty was very different from Esmeralda's, as the former had what one may consider as more refined and aristocratic looks while the later was enthralling with more exotic and feminine features.

"Mother?" Phoebus repeated to Esmeralda after he had taken a few passive moments to examine the girl.

Esmeralda turned to the captain somewhat startled as if she had completely forgotten about him, as she spoke to the girl with gentle tone:

"Madeline, my darling daughter, this is captain Phoebus de Chateaupers, he was a dear friend of mine when I was living in Paris back in my youth."

For the first time since she had arrived the girl quickly examined the man with a look of superiority that felt awfully familiar to the captain, but when she spoke her words sounded kind and genuine:

"It gives me a great delight to meet you, captain de Chateaupers. I have had only rare opportunities to meet friends of my mother's from her past and I am greatly pleased for this chance."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mademoiselle…"

"Frollo," the girl responded, "Madeline Frollo is my name, captain."

Phoebus raised his eyebrows in bewilderment as he looked at Esmeralda.

"You are Frollo's daughter," the captain pronounced in a tone that implied more a question of disbelief than a statement; and it also seemed that this question was directed more towards the older woman as his eyes were still turned towards the gypsy. Esmeralda turned her eyes away from her daughter as she barely but confidently nodded "yes" to Phoebus' question.

"Captain de Chateaupers, have you known my dear father as well?" the young girl asked, as she crossed herself and added, "may his soul rest at peace."

"…rest at peace?" the captain repeated as he looked back at the gypsy. "Is he dead?"

Madeline glanced quickly at her mother surprised to learn that the captain knew nothing about her father's dead. The girl had assumed that her mother had been talking about that to the captain before she interrupted them. Esmeralda's expression had changed almost undetectably by the captain's question but it was enough for Madeline to understand that the question had overwhelmed her mother as the daughter hurried to respond.

"My apologies, captain, I assumed you have already been informed…My much-loved father, may God bless his soul, passed on two days ago. My mother's and my grief is immeasurable, but perhaps it brings me only slight comfort to know that his body will rest in eternity near the cathedral of Our Holy Mother. The mass and the funeral are tomorrow if you would like to attend…"

"Madeline, dear," the gypsy softly interrupted the girl as she stretched her arm across her back and embraced her gently, "I am sure that the captain has duties to attend to."

One look of Esmeralda was enough to inform Phoebus that the gypsy did not wish to explain anything further to her daughter for why the presence of the captain would be so inappropriate at the funeral.

"Your mother is right," he said after a brief moment of silence. "And besides, I may have served under minister Frollo's authority but I don't think I've ever known the man you call your father," he added politely but with some note of irony. The captain's stare was set on Esmeralda as if closely examining her expression.

Esmeralda had been with Frollo all those years? They had raised a child together? He had died a beloved father, and what else… a husband? That didn't make sense to the captain one bit. Somewhere deep in him he had always expected to return back in Paris one day and to see the gypsy alone and admitting to the captain that he was right all along… In the first years he had left Paris he had even hoped for the gypsy to come to him and desire nothing more from the soldier but to leave his wife and infant child for her… But years had faded away those wishes along with the image of the girl. The little memory he had had left for her by the time he had returned to Paris seemed to have vanished away with her absence from the city. The captain had forgotten his feelings for her as well as he had forgotten and replaced her with more convenient and less effortful means of satisfaction. But now her appearance here brought fresh the memories of their last time together and the circumstances that had lead to it.

"Excuse me, father, mother requires to know if you are going to join us _at all_ for the evening prayer."

The familiar voice snapped out Phoebus from his thoughts as he was reminded why he had come to the cathedral at first place. He turned as he saw his son at his side.

"Her words, not mine," the young man added lightheartedly in a lower voice.

"Yes, of course," Phoebus started as he cleared his throat and looked guiltily towards Esmeralda as if he was caught in the act of cheating. "Patrick, tell your mother that I will be right there…"

It was obvious that the captain was caring more for what the gypsy woman would think of him than for the opinions of his wife. The years had not only faded away the memories of the soldier for the gypsy, but they had as well faded away the jealousy and any other emotion _Fleur_**-**_de_**-**_Lys _had for the man she called her husband. It had been very difficult for her to accept him back more than twenty years ago when he had publically made clear that he cared more for a gypsy than his wife, but Fleur-de-Lys was a practical woman. She had figured that stripped from his titles and cheating husband in the countryside is still better compared with the alternative of her remaining in the city pregnant with no husband. She had even hoped for a new start outside the city, but her husband's drinking and multiple affairs which he had not cared to even hide from her had proven to _Fleur_**-**_de_**-**_Lys _that the only way she could avoid the shame from a scandal was to avoid her own marriage. She had always insisted for them to come back in the city (out of some nostalgic memory of it); and by the time it had happened the married couple shared nothing more but the upbringing of their only child.

Nevertheless, even though Fleur-de-Lys had given up long time ago the privilege to care for her husband's affairs the site of him with the woman she had clearly recognized as the single cause of all her husband's vices had made the married woman surprisingly upset. At that point of alienation from the captain it would have been more than unreasonable for her to go there, so she had sent instead the only thing that was still connecting her with her husband- Patrick.

Patrick was just slightly shorter than his father, with fair skin and dark blonde hair in messy curls after his mother's hair. His eyes too were after his mother's as they were blue in color, but had something soothing, yet mischievous in them both of which he had inherited from his father. He had let his beard grow just enough to cover his face, but not enough to actually be called a beard. His stature was similar to his father, yet youthful and rather leaner. His clothes were of a civilian (unlike his father's captain uniform) and even though they seemed expensive and rich the way the man was wearing them were making him look somewhat relaxed, loose and casual.

Patrick was just about to leave the presence of Phoebus and the two women to send the "message" from his father to his mother as he took a second glance towards the younger woman and leered mischievously.

"By our Lady, I did not expect to see such a pleasing little site in a place like this," the young man said to Madeline, reaching to kiss her hand as a gesture of admiration.

The girl withdrew her hand before the young man could have the chance to take it. She looked at him with the same stare of superiority that Phoebus had seen in her when they were first introduced a couple of minutes ago.

"Pardon me, Monsieur, but I seem incapable to recognize how your words can be taken as flattery, if intended at all as such, as at the same time they sacrilege the name of Our Holy mother and suggest disrespect to Her place of worship."

Patrick just looked at her idiotically as if she was speaking a language which he had never heard before.

"Spoken like a true Frollo," Phoebus observed aloud. "No doubt you are his daughter."

Madeline turned towards the older man with unchanging stare.

"Has there ever been a doubt, captain?"

The soldier looked at Esmeralda whose expression had not seemed to change, and yet there was a dose of agreeable pride somehow added to it.

"No," he said as he turned towards the younger girl, "not even the slightest one." Phoebus stared at her for a moment of the second as he added: "Now, if you excuse me ladies, there is a wife waiting for me to pray."

The words were followed by an awkward smile and a slight bend of respect towards the two women. Then, Phoebus urged his son to go backwards as the two men left the presence of the women in black.

**THE NEXT DAY** seemed to have come very fast for Esmeralda and before she could gather her thoughts she found herself at a freshly made grave with a wooden cross on it. It was finally over… The past couple of days seemed to have been a bleak fog in which the gypsy had decided to shut down all her emotions that were building up beneath the surface. Instead, she numbed her pain with a list of things she had to do for the funeral, following them automatically and bluntly. But now it was all over and with nothing left to worry about she had for the first time since Frollo had passed away time to stop and think about it… She was alone- the gravediggers had done their job and had left; the priest had said the prayers for which he was paid and had left shortly after that; her daughter, Madeline, had prayed with the priest over her father's grave and then had left to continue praying for his soul in the Notre Dame cathedral. Esmeralda had let her child go in the church, but she had stayed behind. The mother and the daughter had many common interests but religion was certainly not one of them…

Even after all that had happed nearly 22 years ago Frollo had remained a devoted and true catholic to the Church's traditions and practices. His passion to the religious ways had been passed on to his daughter, who he had alone undertaken the task to raise as a dutiful and virtuous Christian woman.

It had had to be that way as Frollo simply could not have respected his own self without his faith, but of course his devotion to the Church had had its limit- Esmeralda. The former minister had known that his life could not exist without religion, but he had made it clear to the gypsy that he could not exist without her as well. Those two worlds had remained separate throughout all those years and even though he had insisted that his daughter be raised a Christian the minute she had been born he had never made such an offer towards her mother. It had not been because he had perceived the gypsy as something opposite to his belief. It had rather been because he had always regretted his past mistakes with Esmeralda and he had somehow believed that they had been partially because his affections towards her had been wrongly interoperated through his religious ways…

Nonetheless, in his life after he had left Paris Frollo had found balance in his love towards the gypsy and his devotion towards the Church by completely separating one from the other. Esmeralda had never objected to that decision as somehow he had made it work and he had as well always honored and cherished his beloved gypsy, bringing her only happiness and joy just as he had promised her the day they had decided to leave the city. Of course the separation of those two worlds had not always been that clear, especially with the fact that their love had never been blessed by the Church and as consequences a question of the legitimacy of Frollo's daughter followed, however those problems had been easily set aside once one had the means for it. And for great surprise to the gypsy after leaving Paris with Frollo she had discovered that even without his career as a minister he had had plenty of wealth and resources to assure their economic happiness for more than a lifetime.

Esmeralda collapsed on her knees as her arms gently touched the ground, making her fingers sink into the freshly dug dirt. A few hot tears rolled over her cheek and dropped over the grave as she closed her eyes and sighed bitterly. She had truly loved him, as she seemed to have just now realized that after she had left Paris with him she had never regretted that decision…

"He's really gone, isn't he?"

The voice which broke the serene silence of the graveyard startled Esmeralda as she turned around to see who it was. Phoebus was standing a few feet away from her as his eyes were set down to the still kneeling on the ground woman.

"What are you doing here," the gypsy started in a mixture of confused, blunt, and somewhat upset voice.

She started to get up as Phoebus offered her a hand, which she accepted and pretty soon she found herself closer to him than she wished for. The gypsy pushed herself away a few steps as she attempted to dust off the dirt that had stuck to her skirt.

"I waited until everybody left- I was hoping to speak with you alone," the captain returned bluntly as he observed her every motion.

She was wearing a different dress from the one he had seen her the previous day in the cathedral. That one was as well black and heavy, but it had silver linings that were delicately running all over the black flowers on her corset as well as along the ends of her sleeves and skirt. Her hair was pulled up as the day before, but a few curls had escaped their places, as just the slight disorder in her voluminous hair seemed to immediately direct Phoebus' attention to her exotic and untamed beauty. Yes, she was as beautiful as he had remembered her; even though all in black and covered in multiple layers of fabric her curvaceous feminine forms were still well perceived by the soldier.

"What would you like us to talk about," the woman asked in a somewhat distant voice.

The captain slightly smiled as he added:

"You sound so different than before- like a true noble woman."

Esmeralda did not respond to his comment, which made Phoebus make another awkward smile. He approached her in a few steps as he stopped still leaving some respectable distance between them. The captain's warm brown eyes met Esmeralda's as he started more seriously now:

"Yesterday was like an awakening for me… It was as if I have spent the last twenty years of my life in a circle of pretences, which has been broken up the minute I saw you in the cathedral." The gypsy turned her eyes away in reserve, but the soldier just advanced a step further to her and continued: "Do you remember the first time we spoke? It was in the cathedral, probably not more than several feet away from where you were standing yesterday. Seeing you have brought bright and clear all those memories we have shared and I was ready to tell you all that yesterday if we were not interrupted by…"

"By my daughter," Esmeralda finished the captain's thought as he stopped and looked at her piercing green eyes and then sighed heavily.

"Look, I know you have had a life in all those years we haven't seen each other and I respect that… But now it could be probably our chance- I realized it from the moment I saw you that my feelings for you have not changed one bit since the last time I have seen you and now when you are free…"

"Free?" The gypsy asked as she abruptly interrupted the captain. Her voice was calm and steady, but her words were enough to suggest that the soldier's words were upsetting her: "When have I been a prisoner to be called a free person now?"

"I didn't mean that…"

"I am aware of what you meant, but after all the time it has passed it seems to me, captain, that you are still perceiving me as nothing more than a damsel that needs saving. I can assure you that I am neither a damsel nor am I in need of yours or any other's assistance."

"Esmeralda, I can see that," Phoebus said as he advanced another small step towards her. "My apologies if my words have upset you but trust me when I tell you that I have never thought of you as needing anyone's help… Your strength is one of the things that I truly admire about you, and I have certainly not come here to undermine it…"

"What have you intended to come here for then?" she asked as her voice was becoming less steady. Her green eyes pierced his as she felt her stare burning with tears but she fought them from spilling out. "Did you come here then to offer yourself as my lover over the fresh grave of my former one?"

"Esmeralda…" the captain started but at loss of words he just reached to her and soothingly put his hands over her shoulders. "I never meant any disrespect for you…"

The many suppressed emotions of the gypsy were like sea waves which were violently hitting at the rocks of the coast which were restraining them. Everything suddenly became too overwhelming for the woman who had been successfully managing so far to silence her sorrow, but not anymore… She burst into tears as she stood numb before the soldier who had stretched his arms towards her. Surprised at her reaction at first, the captain suddenly came closer and embraced her soothingly.

Her burst of cries did not last very long, but she remained silently whipping at the soldier's shoulder after that.

"You really loved him, didn't you," Phoebus observed as if just now he had actually considered that possibility.

"I truly did..." the woman confirmed, as slowly she pushed herself away from the captain's embrace.

Esmeralda wiped away the tears from her face with her palms and fingers, as she tried to gather herself. She looked at Frollo's grave as she sighed misfortunately.

"Who would have thought on the day he put me to burn on the pyre that I will be mourning his death today… He changed so much because he believed that his love for me was his only virtue, his last one… I loved him so much but I never got the chance to tell him that I forgive him… I truly do; the years we have shared have been the happiest time of my life and have made all his actions before them fade away and lose any significance…"

Esmeralda's voice started to tremble as she stopped before bursting into tears again.

"I am sorry… for everything, Esmeralda…" the captain said after a moment of silence between them, as his words sounded sincere.

The gypsy separated her eyes from the grave as she looked again at the captain.

"Thank you…" she managed to say with a calmer voice.

"If you ever need anything know that I will always be there for you… always."

"I really appreciate that, Phoebus, I really do… But you should know that I stand behind the decision that I made 22 years ago- you and I don't share the same path and I don't believe that will change…"

Phoebus was silent for a moment, but then said with calm and confident voice:

"I respect you too much to insist any further, but despite of everything you should know that I will always be there for you in whatever way you want me to."

Esmeralda barely smiled in gratitude as she turned again towards the freshly made grave.

"Thank you for your kind words, but if you excuse me, I would like to be left alone now…" the gypsy said in a soft and genuine voice as the captain nodded and left her presence.

"**MOTHER**, have you spent all this time standing here," Madeline asked as she approached the grave of her father.

Esmeralda looked around as she just now realized that it was late afternoon and the skies were getting darker.

"I am sorry, dear; I must have not realized how late it is…"

The mother hugged her daughter as she got ready to leave. Madeline looked at the cross over her father's grave.

"I prayed all day the good Lord to have mercy on father's soul and to spare him the suffering from temporal punishment in purgatory."

"You are a good daughter," Esmeralda said softly as she looked one more time at the grave and turned to leave with her daughter at hand.

"Mother," Madeline started after they had made a few steps in silence, "you have never shared with me the story of how father and you met."

"It is a quite long one, my darling love," the gypsy said softly.

"Oh, please share it with me," the girl insisted, "I know of no better way to honor him but by keeping the memory of him alive."

"You are right, my dear one," Esmeralda agreed… "Well, it was on a bright sunny day. It was during a celebration called the _Festival of Fools, _I was dancing…"

"I am most certain that you have been the most beautiful maid there and that you have captured more than one hearts," the girl said with a smile as she imagined her mother at the celebration. "Tell me, how was father different from all of your other admirers?"

Esmeralda smiled back to her daughter as her mind wondered what would be a milder version of the story:

"Well… he was certainly much more persuasive than anybody else…"

THE END


End file.
